Love Me Again
by Dowling17
Summary: The war is won, and there is peace in Wizarding London once again. That is, until a one, Hermione Granger, runs for MOM. When an attempt on her life leaves her with no memory of her fiance or life as she knows it, can Draco remind her why she fell for him to begin with?
1. Chapter One

My first attempt at a fic so here goes nothing! HUGE thanks to my alpha Cls2256. Without her this would be so much worse. She's amazing, check her stories out on ao3.

You all know I don't own Harry Potter so I won't say it again after this. What you recognize is Rowling. What you don't is me.

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_Success, at last. _

I look around my new office— mahogany desk, mahogany bookcases to match, black leather executive's chair, and plenty of space for meetings with foreign diplomatic wizards. The enchanted window adjacent to the desk displays a spectacular view of a private, white-sand Caribbean beach.

I sit down behind my new desk and let out a huge breath. After years of working longer and harder hours than any of my colleagues, proving myself worthy of and committed to the job, I made it. As of today, I am the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. _Finally!_

I glance at the photos on my desk— both magical, of course. The first is of my mother, fair yet fierce; her smile is relaxed, her expression is soft yet confident. The second is of me with my fiancée. She smiles, then looks to the ground shyly. Her typically bushy brown hair is slicked back into an elegant swirl with tamed ringlets cascading around her face. I'm in a gray suit that matches my eyes exactly. This photo was taken on the best day of my life— the day she said yes.

I smile as I run a finger along the frame of the photograph, the memory as clear as if no time had passed.

_"So... what do you think?" _

_Her voice comes from behind me. I turn around and lose the wind from my lungs— she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. _

_"Breathtaking," I manage to get out. _

_She blushes and offers her hand. I take it, and instantly feel the sensation of being at home. Her hand feels right; she feels right. _

_"The gala starts soon," I add, "We should get going." _

_My stomach flips as we disapparate. A moment later, air rushes into my lungs, and I nearly gasp. I take a moment to catch my breath, and then lead her along. Silver carpet leads up to a magnificent entrance, soft twinkling lights give the ambiance of a winter wonderland. Instead of entering, I lead her aside and into the gardens. _

_"Draco— wh— what about the gala?" _

_"Come on, Granger, you'll want to see this." I tease. _

_Using her surname, I wondered if she'd keep it after she says yes— if she says yes, I falter. _

_She laughs at the use of her surname and rolls her eyes. I force a smile and squeeze her hand gently. Can she tell how anxious I am? _

_I lead her into the gardens, and the scene is better than I imagined it would be. She gasps at the soft lights, soft enough that you can still see the stars above. I feel her begin to slow her pace and turn to me. _

_"Mom? Dad? Harry? Draco, what's—" _

_I dropped to one knee. "Hermione, I love you. You're brilliant, beautiful, and you've believed in me when I couldn't believe in my own self. The past two years of being yours have been the greatest of my life. You've shown me a different way of life, and I don't ever want to be without you," _

_I pull a small velvet box from my pocket and fumbling miserably with shaking hands. Her hand comes up to her gaping jaw, gasping as I snapped the box open. _

_"Will you marry me?" _

_She throws herself into my arms, crying out, "YES!" _

_I hold her tightly, unable to contain my happiness. I spin her around once and before setting her down gently. I take her left hand, my hand still shaking, and slip the ring onto her fourth finger. She kisses me firmly, then pulls back just an inch and whispers ever so softly. _

_"I love you, Draco." _

A knock at the door snaps me back to reality.

"Just a minute!" I called.

The knocker ignores me and enters anyways. It's my new assistant— I haven't even learned his name yet.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but your fiancée is in St. Mungo's…"

I blink at him a few times. "What?"

"I–I just received the word that," my assistant stammers, "Hermione Granger was taken to St. Mungo's from her press conference this afternoon. I–I thought you ought to know, sir…"

I fly out of my chair, calling back over my shoulder. "Put any memos I receive on my desk!"

I run down the hall and skid into the lift. I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the disembodied voice of the Ministry lifts to speak.

_"Level 8, Atrium."_

I rush out, gaining pointed looks from several passersby. As I sprint to the fireplaces, my stomach feels like it's relocated to my throat. I jump inside and shout,

"ST. MUNGO'S!"

I'm whisked through the floo, spinning rapidly through magical chimney shoots for a few moments before I'm spit out at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Harry is pacing in the waiting room, and I know it's me he's waiting for. He sees me, beckons, and I follow.

"What's happened?" I hiss urgently as we walk, "You're supposed to make sure she doesn't end up here!"

He stops, his expression darkening, "You know there's no one better suited to guard her but me."

I'm angry. I don't understand what's happened to my future wife, and I want someone to blame. I sigh; I know Harry isn't the one to blame for this, though.

"Yes, alright," I say impatiently, but with less acidity. "but what's happened?"

We continue walking, albeit slower than I would've liked. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, sighing heavily.

"I tried to protect her..."

He stops speaking— there's something he doesn't want to say.

"Yes, and...?" My eyes bug out of my head as I motion with my hand for him to continue. "Get to the point, Potter."

"I - I -" He looks down at his feet, pausing for a moment before speaking again, his voice small and soft. "Draco, I fucked up."

I stare at him as he stares at the floor, both of us silent for a moment. I see the turmoil in his expression as he gains his composure to speak again. This time, his words tumbling out clumsily.

"He came out of nowhere, and when I pulled her down, I— I just—" Harry swears under his breath as he looks up to the flickering fluorescent lights above, shaking his head. "Her head hit the marble and her skull is— _was_— cracked. There was a bit of swelling in her brain."

He ruffles the mess of what he calls hair as he looks down at his feet, his expression riddled with guilt. I feel what scarce color I have left drain out my face— her skull had been cracked. My fiancée's head had been _broken_.

"Here," Harry stops and looks in a room. "She's not awake."

I sit down in a chair in the hall, just outside her room. I hang my head into my hands, not expecting Harry to continue speaking.

"They fixed her sku—"

He stops as I pick my head up to glare at him. How could he let this happen? Logically, I know that no one could have done better. No one is more protective of her... except me, I thought bitterly.

A Healer walks up, his lime-green robes reminding me of sick. "And you would be the -erm, fiancé, yes? Name?"

"Draco Malfoy,"

My name, per usual, grants me a double-take.

"Yes, well, she cracked her skull, yes, that was mended. She had some minor swelling, and a minor brain bleed. We've taken care of everything, and are just waiting for her to wake. Once she does, we'll be able to check that all is in order. She could have some speech problems or temporary amnesia," The Healer looks up from his clipboard. "Any questions?"

"_Temporary_ amnesia?" My face blanches. "How temporary, exactly?"

"That is... well— hard to tell. Each person, injury, and healing process is different. Some people take only a few weeks to regain full cognitive function, while others take years, or even... never fully regain functionality."

"Never?"

The word rings inside my mind over and over as I feel my stomach hit the floor.

_Never._

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Hope you enjoyed the first installment! Updates every Saturday so please follow and review!


	2. Chapter Two

Smutty memories ahead, you're fair warned. To make up for not having Hermione in the mix until next week, here's an early chapter! Shout out to my alpha, cls2256, you're amazing! Check her out on ao3. I'm completely blown away that people actually want to read what I've written so thank you guys! Feel free to review and follow.

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"She won't forget you, mate. This is Hermione we're talking about. She's the smartest witch of our age. Her brain will be fine." Harry offers.

I clasp my hands together and look to Harry with pleading desperation.

"I need to know. What happened? _Exactly._"

Harry sighs, seeming to not want to rehash the details to me at this moment, but starts regardless.

"We were at that press conference, little Q&A about the campaign for Minister of Magic— all routine, really," He ruffles his hair again. "In comes this bloke, shooting spells at Hermione. My first thought was just to get her to safety," He pauses. "It's my fault. I launched myself at her to get her down, and we went flying off the platform. She smacked her head against the marble floor. It was all I could do to get her out of the line of fire."

"Who was the bloke?"

I wonder silently which guard I could pay off to take care of him, permanently. The look in Harry's eyes as I ask this makes my blood start to boil.

"Erm-" My voice rises. "You lot did catch him…didn't you?"

"Not exactly… He – he got away…"

I'm about to lose my temper again as a medi-witch, in the same sickly lime green robes, exits Hermione's room and turns to me.

"She's waking. Her speech seems normal. Would you like to enter?"

I stand up straight; my posture is perfect— as always— as I rise to my full height of 6'2" and head held high. My father always said, "One's posture can exert confidence even when one is lacking."

A thought occurs, and I hesitate. What if Hermione lost her memory forever? Would she remember me? Or will she remember me as nothing more than a Death Eater? My left arm feels uncomfortable, even though I know the mark is faded to nothing more than a shadow. Harry correctly interprets my hesitation and offers to see her first.

"…Yeah, I'll be right here. Thanks, Potter."

He enters the room, leaving the door cracked so I can hear everything. Sitting with my ear to a door, my heart beats hard inside my chest— I am more nervous than I can ever remember being.

"Hey 'Mione, how're you feeling?" I hear Harry say softly.

"I'm alright, I suppose. My head is positively _pounding_. The medi-witch should be bringing a potion for pain back shortly."

"Do you-" but he's cut off.

"Where's Ron? I would have thought he'd be with you seeing as his girlfriend is in St. Mungo's." Just like that, all hope is gone. She's gone. The only person to ever inspire me for more no longer remembers I'm worth encouraging. My world comes to a halt. Will there ever be a wedding now? My heart aches as images of our time together flash through my head. I get lost in a particular memory, about a year after our engagement.

_"I just don't see the rush, Draco." She presses her lips to mine. I pull her to me, my hand in her hair and my other pressing her into me at her lower back. I swipe my tongue across her bottom lip. _

_"Don't you want to be my wife?" I whisper in her ear as I leave wet kisses down her neck, nipping as I go. She moans. _

_"Of course, Draco. I've said yes, but I'd really like to wait a bit. Both of our careers are sooo close! I want us to plan when we aren't so..." _ _she trails off as I make my way to her breasts. _

_"Please, 'Mione. I want you as my wife" I lift her up, and she wraps her legs around me as I carry us to our bed. _

I smile. Hermione Granger always did get her way. We are set to be married after the vote for the next Minister. _Were_ set, I reminded myself. Harry steps back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He runs a hand through his hair.

"Well… she thinks it's 2001, mate," he rubs his neck sheepishly.

"2001? That's - that's.. before we even got assigned together. She's no idea how much I've changed. That's also a year before her and Ron split." I blanche and fall back to my seat.

Potter smiles. "Really only a few months before they split, if you're-"

"Is my misery amusing to you, Potter?" I say flatly.

"Draco, we're friends— this is just as important to me as it is to you. Knowing Hermione, it was already over at this point is all I meant. Ron's still family to me, but Hermione is like my sister, too. She was happy with you. I want her to be happy more than anything."

"And if she never remembers I make her happy? What am I supposed to do? Start over? Make her love me again?"

Harry shrugged. "You already did it once."

The media-witch enters her room with the aforementioned pain potions, and once she leaves, I peek in her room— she's sleeping. Silently, I slip inside and walk to her bedside. She looks as beautiful as when we parted ways this morning. She had a smile on her face as we kissed goodbye.

"_I'll see you tonight." She winked. _

Now, who knows what will happen? My thoughts stray to her with Ron— I can tell he's never really given up hope. He never liked us together, anyhow. _Weaslebee, _I think with a roll of my eyes. I place my hand upon her cheek and kiss her forehead.

"I'll always love you," I whisper.

She takes a deep breath, still sleeping, and sighs. "Draco…"

I hesitate, unsure if she's woken or if it's merely her subconscious. Apparently, the latter, as she says nothing further. I regain hope, however— I'm not entirely gone from her mind. I make to exit the room when a vase of beautiful gardenias on the bedside table catches my eye. A memory of my mother and I invades my mind— I was a child, no older than six, walking through the gardens of Malfoy Manor.

_"Mmm… Gardenias," Mother says, bending down to sniff the fragrant white flower. "Every time I smell these, I think of your grandmother Druella. They were her favorite— come, Draco, would you like to sniff?"_

From that moment on, I associate the smell of Gardenias not with my grandmother, but with Mother instead. Amazing, how powerful a simple smell could be.

An idea pops into my head. I take a pillow from the cabinet as I made to exit, but not before I turned back to take another glance at my sleeping fiancée.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," I whisper softly, even though it's only the afternoon.

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I gaze lazily at the stars from the balcony, sneering at what fate has thrown upon me. I hear Blaise going on about happier times as if that's what I need to be focusing on in the present moment. Such damn optimism. I try not to look at the empty seat as I turn to him. _Her_ seat.

I feel the familiar burn down my throat as I shoot the rest of my firewhiskey. The ice tinkles around the glass as I signal Blaise for more.

"Almost nine years. Gone. Just like that."

I can hear a slur in my words— the firewhiskey has done its job, and I, frankly, don't give a damn. Blaise sits in apparent thought. He sips his drink,

"Nine years, you say? So – the Weasle, then? Does he know?"

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be long," I say dryly.

"Look, Draco, this is simple-"

"Simple!?" I cut him off. "This is all but simple, Blaise!"

"Are you finished wallowing in your self-pity? All I mean to say is that you've been here before. It's not ideal, but this has all already happened once before. Just duplicate things until her memory returns." he shrugs.

Could it be that simple? She did fall for me once…

I clap him on the back and thank him for the firewhiskey, then walk to the edge of his property and disapparate to the manor. It's late, I need a shower and some rest. I throw my suitcoat over the chair in the parlor; I'll hang it up tomorrow. I loosen my tie as I make my way to the bathroom, swaying slightly as I walked. My mouth is dry, begging for water to quench the thirst Blaise's firewhiskey had left me with. I ignore my mouth's plea for refreshment as I stumble into the bathroom, fumbling to turn the shower on. I succeed after a minute, and then shed my clothes and step inside. The water comes down hot and steamy, turning my fair skin pink. I pick up a bar of soap and lather my chest, losing myself to memories of us coming forward.

_"What now?" _

_I whisper playfully and seductively, with her arms pinned above her head with my left hand, her back pressed against the wall, water beating against my back. She clasps my lower lip in her teeth. I run my free hand down the side of her torso, earning a moan from her lips. I explore her mouth with my tongue and move my hand to her breasts. Her nipples harden and elongate under my touch. I release her arms, no longer playful, and begin to worship her body with my mouth, trailing kisses and nips from her neck to her waistline. I drop to my knees and give her a quick smile as I spread her legs. My lips brush her clit softly then I flick my tongue. _

_Gently, I suck her clit, and her hands fly to my blonde hair. I take a finger and slide inside her. Slick as I circle her walls, all the while, flicking my tongue and suckling her. I enter another finger, pressing down on her spot, rotating my fingers faster and give a few pumps. Her moans become louder as she cries out my name. _

_"Draco!" _

_I can feel her stomach clench as her insides begin to pulse, signaling the beginning of her orgasm. She screams, throwing her head back in ecstasy as she climaxes. My cock is hard with a hunger for her; I stand before she's done pulsing. I place myself at her entrance and push in firmly as I pick her up and press her to the shower wall. I fill her easily, and she pleads for more. Thrusting into her, I lean down and access her mouth as she moans. Faster and faster. I begin to feel her walls tremble around me. She bucks her hips in rhythm to my thrusts—it's sensational. _

_"Hermione, you are a goddess..." _

_I whisper to her as I begin to reach my own climax. I rub her clit, and she comes undone around me, crying out my name. I release my own, and I fill her with my seed as I cry out hers. _

_"Hermione.." _


	3. Chapter Three

I wake with the feeling of having a dream that I need to remember, but find it fleeting away before I can fully grasp what I've lost. What was I dreaming about?— and why did I feel the odd sensation that I _needed_ to remember?

My eyes feel heavy as I look around my room. _Must be the pain potions._ I try again to recall the information I've apparently lost. I search the sterile white hospital room, disappointed to find I'm alone; surely Harry or Ron would be here waiting by my bedside, as protective as they are. Almost as if my thoughts summoned him, the door opens, snapping my attention to Harry standing in the threshold of my room with a steaming cup of what appears to be coffee.

"Oh, you're awake!" he rustles his hair around, making it even wilder than normal. "Good."

He closes the door behind him, and I now notice a plastic bag the size of a briefcase under his arm. His face is full of relief, I assume due to my conscious state, but his posture is rigid— stiff like a marble statue.

"Where's Ron?" I croak, my voice hoarse with lack of use.

"We need to talk, 'Mione. Things are..." He pauses, his eyes darting, landing on nothing in particular. "_…different_."

"Are you referring to the time I've lost? The Healer came in yesterday after visiting hours and informed me it was—" I feel an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach, as if I was walking down a staircase and missed a step. I take a shaking breath, and continue. "…2009. Apparently the injury to my head has left me with a gaping hole in my memory?"

Harry looks around the room, still avoiding my eyes. The relief is gone from his expression—obviously whatever has changed is hard to explain.

"I— I gathered your things they bagged at intake, I hope these will kind of help. I'm honestly afraid I'll give you a heart attack if I explain everything to you."

He hands me the bag of my things I entered the hospital in. The first item I pull is a neatly folded three-piece skirt suit ensemble. It's made with a sturdy, luxurious material in a shade of green that I know complements my complexion and tones.

"Expensive…" I murmur.

I wonder how much had changed exactly to be able to afford and justify such an outfit. Digging deeper into the bag, I find a pin, just larger than a galleon, flashing words that make me gasp.

**Granger for M.O.M. 2009 **

I mouth the flashing words, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. My brow furrows— could this really be? _Me?_ A muggle-born witch running for the highest position in the Magical Government? This brings me a huge sense of pride. I am the Brightest Witch of My Age, after all.

"...I'm running for Minister of Magic?"

"And topping the polls, all things considered." Harry offers.

I set the flashing campaign pin aside and dig deeper inside the bag. My mouth goes dry when I finger a ring. The center diamond is huge with a row of smaller diamonds surrounding it, paired on a simple white gold band. I look to Harry, then to my left ring finger, and then back to the ring. There's an obvious indentation on said finger that tells me I've worn it for some time. With a shaking hand, I slide the ring onto my finger— my heart stops for a split second as the ring fits perfectly.

_Hermione, relax—_ I tell myself, attempting to calm myself. _It's all going to be alright. This is just a puzzle— you like puzzles. Take emotions out of it and just solve the puzzle._

Harry watches me as I take a few deep, calming breaths. I wish he'd say something, offer me some sort of clue. I try to tell myself that maybe Ron had finally popped the question, but in my heart of hearts, I know better. I knew Ron Weasley could not afford such a ring, and even if he now could, his taste was not this exquisite.

There's something else in the bag— a necklace, it seems. I look at Harry for reassurance, and his eyes beckon me to continue. This piece of jewelry seems to be expensive; white gold, thin chain, and a lovely little pendant that resembles—

My heart stops once again, my breath catches in my throat— this is a dream. I must be dreaming. Surely, it has to be— this is no way on earth this could be real. There is no scenario I can come up with to understand why I would have been wearing such a necklace.

"Harry, this isn't mine." I say, fighting to keep control of my voice.

"It is," Harry insists softly "you were wearing it when you arrived."

Why would I be wearing this necklace? There is no possibility within my brain of why I would choose to wear a necklace bearing a constellation pendant— the _Draco_ constellation, to be specific.

A thought forms in my head, and my eyes dart back and forth between the white gold pendant in my right hand, and the ring upon my left. Surely, if this was not a dream, then this was a joke. This pendant could be a George Weasley creation, waiting for the right moment to burst into flames and scream 'GOTCHA!'

Something deep inside me knows this necklace is not a prank. My eyes once again darted between the ring and the pendant, finally accepting the possible connection between the two. Surely Ron could not afford such a ring, but someone I knew that shared the same name as this constellation, could.

"Harry," I ask slowly, my voice now an octave higher than normal, "Am I married to Draco Malfoy?"

"Not yet."

His words hang in the air as my mind races. I desperately try to pinpoint my last memory, something that could make sense of all this. If I was betrothed to Draco Malfoy, as Harry had just confirmed, it should be near impossible for me to forget him, shouldn't it? The more I dig through my brain, the more frustrated I become. I remember Ron and I together. I don't even remember being friendly with Malfoy, much less be his fiancée.

I could see how potentially my relationship with Ron might've fizzled out by this point, yes; we wanted different things in life. Ron was my best friend, our day to day life was perfectly fine, but he wanted a large family. Such as he grew up with. I wanted to expand my career, a sense a stability, before children. Ron and I had been through so much together but, even if we did agree to be just friends, _Draco Malfoy?_ I wrack my brain once again, hitting nothing but a brick wall. Blank. Nothing.

"Do I— Do I… _love_ him?" I ask hesitantly.

"Mione, like you couldn't imagine. Believe it or not, but he does too. Don't get me wrong, it's not to say this happened overnight, but he's changed."

I toss the idea around in my head, and see no logical possibility of this. Draco was a Death Eater, no one stops being a Death Eater… right?

"I don't know about this Harry…"

Harry sits on my bedside and takes my hand. "I know this a lot to take in right now, but you don't know. You don't remember. Who else but you could make the ferret and me become friends?"

"You two are-" I pause. "Friends? Really, Harry?" My voice trembles slightly.

My brain is flooded with the memories of all he had done to us in school. Could he have really changed so much that I'd fall in love with him? It seems impossible to me. I'm at a loss as to how this could've happened. I just wish I could remember…

"I think— I think I need some rest," I lean back against my pillow; I certainly was tired all of a sudden. "This has been overwhelming, to say the least." I added, chuckling half-heartedly.

Harry smiles and leans over to kiss my forehead. "Love you, Mione— get some rest. Ginny said she'll be by tomorrow since she just got in from the game. I know you hate quidditch, but the Harpies won!"

"That's great! I'm very happy for her," I force a smile. "I love you too."

I watch Harry leave my hospital room, and then close my eyes when I am alone. Questions, thoughts and scenarios swarmed my now pounding head, but I was overwhelmed with tiredness. Sleep takes me before I even had a chance to make more sense of what I had just learned.

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I couldn't wait until tomorrow so here we are! My usual shout out to my alpha, cls2256. She's the creme de la creme of alphas! Updates on/by Saturdays! See you next week! Review and follow.


	4. Chapter Four

I had a really shitty Thursday and writing makes me feel better so here's an early chapter! Also, I made a Tumblr so if you have one, I'm Dowling17.

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I step out the floo network as Harry approaches. Relief washes over me as I contemplate what they've talked about.

"Well, she took it better than I thought she would, honestly" he says as he ruffles his hair.

"You told her that she's with me and not the Weasel?"

Thank god. My heart starts to pound and my palms become sweaty. He looks around placing his hands in his pockets.

"Well, you did that for me actually. I planned—"

I cut him off. "I did? How?"

"The necklace. Not to mention, Ron isn't as ostentatious as that ring you got her," He whistles. "She took it well, considering. She was shocked and in disbelief but she doesn't know— er— _remember_ how far you've come, mate. Are you—" Harry stops, frowning at the pillow tucked up under my arm. "What's with the pillow?"

I feel color rushing to my face and mumble out "An experiment."

I clap his back and head off to see my girl. She still doesn't remember me but my heart is soaring. I always felt like I didn't deserve her, anyhow— she's too pure. I may have changed, but surely ex-death eaters don't get as lucky as I have been.

I look around her door to find her sleeping, remnants of a calming draught on her nightstand. Good, I only planned to plant the pillow I took and slept with last night. I gently lift her head and replace the pillow with the one that now smells like me. It may be blocked now but I know, deep down, I'm still in there. What we have goes beyond what can be remembered. We're one and the same. My heart aches for her and it becomes hard to breathe. I miss her wit and the light she brings into my life.

I step into the hall and think of the darkness before her. It was almost seven years ago that we were assigned together. My life was nothing but work, firewhiskey, and a string of one night stands. I always felt empty. I was rightfully mistrusted- only having avoided Azkaban on account of Harry. He shocked the Wizengamot by appearing to my trial to testify of my coercion into becoming a death eater to replace my father, or die along with my mother and father. He told them of how I refused to identify him in the Manor and he had asked them how they think they would have said no to Voldemort as a child, when I first took the mark.

I kept out of the way after the war apart from work and nights at the bar. When Hermione and I got paired together she had laid the law down from the moment I walked in. Without seeing me more than in passing since the war ended she had come in what was to be our office, her eyes blazing and bushy hair flying, declaring that if I placed one toe out of line then I was gone.

_"I'm serious, Malfoy, Harry may think you deserve to be off the hook but I'm warning you. Another thing, you better carry your own weight! I won't be doing all the work while you just scowl about!" _

We had our fights and somehow the back and forth banter and witty zingers turned my world upside down. I started to eagerly rush to work just to rile her up, to see the determination on her face and fire in her eyes. The snappy comments made way to laughter and teasing. We worked together until she was promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I hadn't realized that I quit drinking and sleeping around before she left.

I laugh out loud, shaking my head. Our first kiss. With Hermione no longer as my partner, life wasn't the same. I had no one but Blaise. Of course, not counting my mother but no one brought life to my world like Hermione Granger. She made me_ feel_. Whether her know-it-all attitude was pissing me off or her caring nature was making me second guess my entire upbringing, she showed me there was more to life than I knew. Within a week of her promotion, I showed up to her apartment, firewhiskey in hand, unable to stand straight. She had answered the door, hair wilder than humanly possible, in a robe going off about it being 3 am. I fell over and she levitated me to her couch asking what on earth I thought I was doing.

_"This."_ I had brushed my lips against hers lightly. She had told me to go to sleep and when I woke, she was gone. She had left out a glass of water on the coffee table alongside a hangover potion and pepper-up.

I rise to my feet. A medi-wizard stops me as I turn to leave.

"Mr. Malfoy! Good to see you. I've just come to let you know that Miss Granger can be released in two days time. Her labs and tests all appear normal. No more bleeds have appeared so she'll just need a follow up in about two weeks." He smiles and shakes my hand as I give him my thanks.

I haven't even had the courage to see her awake yet and she's to be discharged to me in two days. I grab some floo powder and head into the office. It was my first week as Head of International Magical Cooperation and I've only spent a few hours a day in the office. Working from home had been easier than hearing condolences over Hermione's condition.

My assistant is waiting for me when I arrive. Jacob, I finally learned his name is.

"Anything new, Jacob?"

"Yes, sir—Miller has that report you wanted done, I've placed it on your desk and Johnson just got back from MACUSA with a full report, as well, sir." he states, his demeanor more confident than when he had first started.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I prepare to spend the rest of the day— and most of the night— catching up. A knock pulls me from my paperwork what feels like just a few minutes later, but my clock informs me that I've been filing paperwork several hours.

"Mister Potter, sir." Jacob announces.

Harry blunders past Jacob, entering my office hasitily.

"We caught the bloke!"

"What?! Who?! Where is he, Potter?" I demand. This man is going to learn exactly what happens when you piss off a Malfoy.

"Trust me, Draco. This guy is a nobody. He's just as slimy as Mundungus was. He's singing like a proverbial canary but, there's not much he knows. He was ordered to take Hermione out, by any means necessary. He's no idea who hired him, they didn't come to him directly. We verified that with veritaserum already."

For the second time this week, my world shatters. "So, what you're telling me is even though we've got the guy, my fiancée still isn't safe yet?"

My chest tightens—I can't go through this again. I can't lose her again. Memory loss she may be able to come back from, but _death…_

His expression darkens "She'll be safe, Draco. This guy was just a hired wand but he's cooperating nicely. I don't suppose he thought we'd be looking for him because he was caught hanging around St. Mungo's. One of the security guys glimpsed his face at the Q&A and recognized him. The threat of Azkaban nearly had him in tears."

"Take me to him." I demand darkly.

"You know I can't do that." He pauses, ruffling his hair and adds "but I can take you to the viewing area. That's it though." he warned.

We head to the lifts and wait for the voice to call for Level Two; _Auror_ _Headquarters_. He steers me passed empty cubicles to an enclosed room. Through the one way glass, I can see a gruff, disheveled man in a set of tattered robes, and a trench coat. My blood boils. This git ruined my life and for what? A couple hundred galleon, if that. I'd give the entire Malfoy vault to have Hermione back with her memory.

"What information has he given up?"

"He doesn't know much, like I said; he's not the brains or the bank of this organization. He's just a pawn. He's known down Knockturn Alley for all your shady needs. Contact is made, deliver instructions and half up in a drop spot in an abandoned building then a drop when the job is done for the rest." He ruffles his hair and pauses. "I'm thinking – we let him go."

"Are you mental!?" I exclaim.

"Don't be daft, Draco." He drawls as if he's explaining something to a child. "Let him go with a _tracking spell_. He may not have succeeded in the way planned but _The Daily Profit _has had Hermione's memory loss, how they found out, I have no idea, plastered on the front page all week. They may consider job done regardless. Or make contact for another attempt. We'll have surveillance there and wait for them to come."

"This isn't over, is it?"

"I'm afraid not. Have you seen Hermione? Awake, I mean."

"I'm getting to it. I'm just –" I sigh. "Nervous." I admit.

"THE Draco Malfoy? Nervous?" He laughs. "Come on, mate. The longer you remain hidden, the harder it'll be." He claps my back.

I glance at my watch and decide to call it a night. "I'll go first thing tomorrow morning."

* * *

Thanks to cls2256 and to y'all for reading! Don't forget to show some love! Follow/review. The long awaited meeting occurs next week! After that the pace will begin to pick up. Hope you enjoy. Updates on Saturdays-ish, if I can wait that long.


	5. Chapter Five

As always, thank you to my alpha, cls2256. She is magnificent. Also, thanks to those continuing with the story! Let me know your thoughts with a review.

* * *

_I apparate into the living room, crying. I love my job, but some days law enforcement isn't for everyone. Today was one of those days; a child was murdered. I collapse on the couch and hear an audible pop. Suddenly there are muscular arms winding around me as he pulls me into his lap. _

"_I heard about your case and came straight to your place when you weren't in your office." I look up to white blonde hair and steel grey eyes. _

I gasp as I fly upright in my hospital bed. A dream? Or a memory? I try to remember more, but again, nothing comes forward. I lay back and smell something that seems like a memory that I can't place my finger on. I find the source of smell; my pillow. The scent is intoxicating and creates an ache of longing. Longing for what, though? A medi-witch enters with breakfast and another to check my vitals.

"Oh- I didn't mean to interrupt," I hear from the doorway. It's him. Draco.

"May I come in?" he asks shyly. I study his face searching for what, I'm unsure of.

"Yes, that's fine," I say breathily. A sense of calm washes over me in an unexplainable manner. As he approaches my bedside, I'm enchanted by his eyes. Grey. I remember his eyes were cold and hard, yet now they're full of warmth and life. The medi-witch's departure pulls me out of his eyes. The silence stretches between us, and I wonder again how my life got to this point. Marrying a man who tormented my friends and me in school, an ex-death eater— someone I didn't trust. Where do we go from here? He steps closer, and I'm shocked to smell the scent from my pillow. My heart aches again.

"Harry told me you – you found your ring… and your necklace."

His voice sounds as if he's pleading, and his eyes are studying me intensely.

"I did," I reply, my voice small.

I bolster my confidence and demand to know how I came to be engaged to the likes of him. Hurt crosses his face, and I find myself reaching for him before I realize what I'm doing. A part of me that I don't know wants to never be the cause of that look again, but logically, I hold myself back.

"You're to be released tomorrow. I understand if you wish to be released to Harry and Ginny, but I'd like you to come home. To our home.. with me."

He looks away as an emotion crosses his face, and when he looks back to me, I can see the pleading in his eyes.

"And.. you want me? To come with you?"

The idea sounds absurd. He'd sooner want a blast-ended skrewt.

"I'd love nothing more than. This isn't the past, Hermione. I know, to you, this is all confusing and unexplainable, but you love me too. Your body remembers me. Your subconscious remembers me. The kind of love and devotion we have can't be erased by anything. Please, come home. I love you and have loved you for six years. I don't want to lose you."

"Malfoy— Draco, I just –" I pause, taking a breath and steadying my nerves "I don't know you. I think I should go with Harry and Ginny."

Instantly, I want to take it back. He staggers back a step, and his mouth pops open slightly. His face sags, and his grey eyes appear hollow. He turns,

"I understand."

I wring my hands and notice I'm still wearing my engagement ring. A tear splashes onto the back of my hand. I don't know him. This is the right thing. This Hermione in 2009 may have been in love with him, but as far as she was concerned, in 2001, she and Draco were still in two separate worlds.

* * *

The door opening catches my eyes as Ginny races into my room. Her hair is as fiery as Ron, which sends a pang into the pit of my stomach. She rushes to hug me, inquiring how I'm feeling.

"I'm fine,"

"Really." I add as she quirks her eyebrow at me.

"Harry told me that you didn't take.. certain aspects of things well."

She eyes me carefully examining my face, which I quickly draw to a blank and feel my mind clear almost of its own accord. When did I learn Occlumency?

"I- I'm confused.. and processing." I start. "Honestly, I'm fine. Just trying to place things where they go. If only I could find things."

I smile sheepishly. "If you only knew, Hermione."

I clench my teeth. If I knew then this wouldn't be an issue or even a conversation.

"I don't know what I want to. I can't stand not knowing something, but if this makes sense by knowing then, I'm not completely sure I want to."

I attempt to change the subject and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"How was your game? Harry said the Harpies won."

"You must seriously be struggling if you want to talk quidditch!"

"Okay, not particularly, but it was the first thing that came to mind." I laugh, heartily. "Tell me about you and Harry then."

She regales the details of their life as of late. How they got married, and I was her maid of honor, the house they bought in Godric's Hollow, of my nephew, James, how after almost 20 years of friendship, we all still get together and make time for each other. I swallow hard, my hands sweating.

"And, Ron? How is he?"

Instantly, I regret asking as a look of sadness mixed with pity briefly flashes across her face.

"He dates here and there. He quit the Ministry. He's running the Hogsmeade shop for George."

She pauses for a moment then blurts out. "Y'all weren't good together." She takes a deep breath. "I mean, you weren't right for each other. You always wanted different things. He's still sort of bitter about things, mostly because of who you picked. He's also why you and Draco haven't married yet. After Ron, you vowed to not jeopardize your dreams instead of a relationship. He's my brother and I love him but when it doesn't work, it just doesn't."

I chew my bottom lip processing everything. Sorting pieces of information in my mind. Ginny takes my hand.

"You're my best friend, Hermione. I'm so sorry this has happened to you, but we are here for you, and you'll figure it out. You always do."

"Thanks, Ginny."

We chat idly laughing and catching up about the mundane changes that my mind has blocked away from me.

* * *

Blinding light interrupts my sleep, and I pull the covers over my head with a groan. My mouth is dry, and my head is pounding.

"_I don't know you."_ Still echoes in my head.

The covers are yanked from over me, and I scowl at a too perky face looking down at me.

"It's well past noon, and this won't do, Draco. It's Sunday, anyhow." Astoria chirps. I sneer at her as she continues. "I know this isn't ideal, but I'm here to help."

She shoves a hangover potion and a pepper-up potion into my hands, and I drink them reluctantly, knowing it's no use to fight. I grab my wand and reclose the curtains with a look of contempt on my face.

"Okay, I'm up." I drawl out as she pulls me out of bed and begins shoving me into the bathroom with the door closing behind me. I try not to think of Hermione, now with Harry and Ginny, as the water runs over me. Scorching my back, just how she liked it. Proving it challenging to keep her off my mind, I wonder if they've told her yet. She probably assumes we lived in the Manor together. I shut the water off and grab my towel, wandering into our bedroom. Does she know we live on the same street as the Potter's? I head downstairs into the library where I know I'll find Astoria, still so fucking cheery. She straightens my grey dress robes, and sighs.

"See, that's better. I loathe this is happening to you, Draco, but you can't lock yourself away."

Her hand rests on my arm, and I drop my arm, breaking the contact. "She was my friend, too." she states.

Her eyes flash, and I grunt in response. She reaches out to touch me again and hesitates as I steel my face and turn to my liquor cabinet for another firewhiskey. I hear the floo sound as I finish pouring my drink, contemplating Astoria's boldness with physical contact this visit. _She's worried about you._ I push the matter from my mind and hurry from Hermione's favorite room in our house. "Diagon Alley," I manage to choke out, looking over her favorite reading nook. I tuck in my elbows as the floo sends me spinning.

A camera flashes in my face, and I hear, "How do you feel about your fiancee's memory loss?" being yelled at me as I barrel past the reporter, barely repressing a scowl. Years of happiness and bliss with Hermione have made me soft. I snort thinking about how reporters didn't dare do more than sneak a glimpse of me from a distance before her. Usually pressed against some or another woman, and I roll my eyes at my past. The bell tinkles and the smell of new books wash over me. Tired, blue eyes fall upon me as Ralph, the manager, sighs.

"Wasn't sure if I'd find you here today, without her and all."

"Every Sunday, Ralph. You know the routine."

I glare bitterly at the floor, getting ready to pick more books even in her absence.

"She stopped by earlier, so's you know."

My head snaps up at him, and he gives me a wink and a laugh that's rough like his voice. I'm speechless. She came on _our_ day. I grab several books eagerly and make my way to the counter. I set down a couple Galleons and tell Ralph to keep the change. Previously, I had thought against it, but I turned and apparated to the Potter's doorstep with a renewed hope in my chest.

* * *

My eyes are full of tears as I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I can see the signs of aging on my face, and the hope that someone will pop out a "Just kidding!" soon dashes out the window. My hair is less bushy than I remember; its much longer now. Its length is mid-way down my back and weighing down the frizz. Where my skin was once smooth, I'm finding small laugh lines have set in. The proof that I am missing so many years of my life is etched onto my face. I smother down a sob and take in a ragged breath- I needed to get downstairs; Harry and Ginny were preparing lunch. I began to climb down the stairs when a familiar voice causes me to freeze; I listen carefully.

"It has to mean something!"

"I think it means she likes books, mate." Harry pauses. "If you keep reading this much into her every action... you're gonna go mad, Draco."

"But it's OUR day at OUR bookstore... It's what we do..."

My breath catches and eyes water at the heartbreak in his voice. I shake my head in an attempt to free myself of my emotions. It's just Draco. I scoff to myself. I decide I'm suddenly not very hungry and tiptoe as quickly and quietly as I could back up the stairs into the guest room. I crawl back under the covers, feeling oddly safe underneath the thick down comforter. I turn my head to the stack of books on the nightstand next to me, wanting nothing more than to escape into one of them. I plucked the top book from the pile and sat up to read. Just as I begin to read my newest addition, I hear a knock on the bedroom door. My head snaps up in time to lock eyes with none other than my 'fiancé.'


	6. Chapter Six

If you want to catch snipets and teasers for upcoming chapters or new works as I release them, follow me on tumblr! Dowling17. Cls2256 is the best, that is all. I'm too excited to wait until Saturday so here, my lovelies.

* * *

The breath from my lungs is gone as I look up the man I would've least expected at my bedside. My mouth has gone dry, and I lick my lips in a desperate attempt to keep them from chapping. My heart starts to race in my chest as I struggle to choke out a simple sentence.

"C-can I help you?"

My heart beats a strong imprint against my sternum as I wipe my clammy palms on my t-shirt. My breathing is erratic as if I've just run a marathon. Slowly, as if I'm a white-tailed deer about to be startled by a hunter, he enters my room. Surely, he can hear my heart pounding— It's loud enough I'm sure the whole world can hear it.

I observe his hair— still the same white-platinum blonde as when we were kids. His face isn't as pointy as I remember it being; age has squared off his jaw just enough to give him a less pretentious appearance. My breath gains some sense of regularity at the sight of his eyes, however, gray— like steel. I never expected to find such comfort and warmth in such an icy color. His robes match the color of his eyes and compliment his fair complexion perfectly. My eyes roam over his body and how the material is perfectly tailored to him. He's still tall and lean, but there's some definition of his muscles visible even in his clothes. I can't help but wonder when Draco Malfoy became so attractive— has he always been this handsome? Had his putrid teenage personality detracted from all the beauty I now see?

He looks at the stack of books I purchased early today with a hopeful expression.

"You- you remembered something?" he asks, looking between the stack and me a few times.

"What? That I like to read? That this is some secret code that I'm in love with you? I must have always been then, hmm?" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes for good measure.

My sudden lash out was a symptom of my frustration. I'm angry- angry about what has happened to me, angry that I don't remember, and angry he's expecting me to remember. Doesn't he understand how hard this is for me? Doesn't he realize how frustrated I am that I can't remember and that I'm trying with all my might to recall something—anything, but the memories aren't coming?

I watch his heartbreak in his eyes as my venom-laced remark stabs him in the chest, I instantly want to suction my words back inside. Immediately, the warmth fades from his eyes. His steel gray irises turn sharp and cold as if he's pushed all feeling inside a box at the far reaches of his mind. His harden expression fades slightly, however, as he sits at the edge of my bed. I observe nervously as he searches my face... but for what is he looking for? A shred of memory to return? He smiles ever so slightly now, chuckling under his breath as he speaks softly.

"Every Sunday, we stop by Ralph's Bookstore. We have quite an exquisite library, I must say."

For a moment, I can imagine it all. A library with bookshelves lined floor to ceiling, large elegant armchairs that we'd curl up into next to a gently crackling fire. We'd have hundreds upon thousands of books, and he'd never tell me it was a waste when we ran out of space.

Sunday mornings would be spent roaming the bookstore to then spend all evening reading together. He'd be completely content with this routine, instead of exasperated like Ron would have been with me. We would swap books and compare thoughts, and we would consider it an entire day well spent together. I can picture us, hand in hand, as we peruse through our library to re-read our favorites. He'd likely never ask me why I wanted to read Hogwarts: A History for the millionth time; he would understand why I loved it so much.

Tears fill my eyes. Despite being able to imagine this life in complete vivid detail, it did not feel like my life. Imagining spending this time with him was not a memory coming forward, despite a strange knawing of want at my core.

_It's just a fantasy, Hermione... _

The life everyone, including myself, is expecting me to remember seems almost too good to be true. It would appear I have everything I've ever wanted and dreamed of. My sense of practicality tells me there's no way I have all that everyone is telling me— one person can't have this good of luck.

"I- I don't remember, I just needed some books, that's all."

I hide my face by pretending to be more interested in my room than this conversation. I try to understand that he is hurting, but I'm unable to soften myself.

"I just- I just thought you might have remembered. that's all..."

He sighs and reaches out, and it angers me further. Doesn't he realize how hard this is on me, too? I slam my book on the nightstand with impressive force, causing him to flinch in surprise.

"I DON'T! I don't remember anything!" I barked. "I don't remember you, us, or even- even," my voice trails off into a whisper, and I continue. "- even myself. I was apparently living out my dreams, and it's all gone. A shoo-in for Minister of Magic, a seemingly exquisite library of my own, an entire life, and it's gone,"

I grip my hair with both hands exasperatedly; my voice breaks with panic, confusion, and overwhelming emotion.

"Don't you realize how frustrating this is? How everyone expects me to just remember a life that seems too good to be true? That I'll touch an engagement ring or a stack of books, and suddenly everything will be like it was? I WANT to remember, I WANT these missing eight years back, because I'm confused, frustrated, and— and—"

I take a deep, shaking breath, attempting to choke back the hot tears now stinging my eyes.

"-I'm scared." I finish on an exhale. "I'm trying to remember, I really am, but it's not coming back to me. So could you not push me, Draco? Could you please give me a little room to breathe?"

His gaze searches mine for a minute, appearing to be looking for the right words to say. I hold his gaze with forced confidence until he simply nods, then looks away. I take a deep breath, and then sit down, my voice returning to a much calmer, more even tone.

"How did this even happen? I remember forgiving you, I do. We were kids, and you believed what you did because of how you were raised, but how did we get here? I don't remember us even being friendly. Ginny told me how things started, but emotionally what happened? The last I knew, I was with Ron."

His eyes search mine once again, and I suddenly feel exposed. I feel as if I'm being x-rayed under his gaze or on display at a zoo. He sighs and reaches for my hand. Just as I begin to withdraw, a warmth spreads throughout me. I can't explain it, but it's the most comfortable I've felt since waking up. As he rubs small circles with his thumbs, I feel myself wanting more. What's wrong with me? How could I ever think such a way about Draco Malfoy? The idea that there is truth to a life I can't remember makes me feel dizzy.

"Ronald is still... in denial, I presume it could be called, over our relationship. There was love there, but from what you told me, it just wasn't enough. You were – _are_ – driven, brilliant, and goal-oriented. You wanted different things. He wanted a big family and to start right away. You weren't ready for that, and he took it personally. It turned into fighting often, and you broke it off because you felt trapped. I'm convinced it's a big reason why you didn't want to marry me until you became Minister of Magic. You're, of course, still friends-" a bitter expression crosses his face, "but with him running the Hogsmeade branch, there's not much to be said of him being around."

I smile sheepishly, admitting guilt through my expression. Everything Draco said sounded very much like me and lined with what Ginny had told me.

"I can see that," I admit, with a sheepish laugh.

"Oh, Granger." He moans, almost unintelligibly, seeming unaware I even heard him.

"Do you love me?" I blurt out.

Why I asked this, I'm not sure. Was I looking for a reason to find my supposed 'happy little life' not as pleasant as everyone makes it seem? Was I looking for an 'out,' so to speak?

"More than I could ever tell you." He breathes.

This statement is hard for me to process... Draco Malfoy really loves me? Harry tells me I love him. Could we really be _that_ in love? Maybe we are, perhaps that's why I feel such immense comfort from his thumb stroking the top of my hand.

Anxiety grips my chest once more—there has to be something, a catch of some sort. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, the love of the century? No way. My brain couldn't logically find a way for this to be possible. If only I could remember _something..._

"...what about your parents?" I ask. Undoubtedly, the Malfoys wouldn't be thrilled with their son's choice of partner. "They don't mind you're marrying a muggle-born?"

"My mother adores you. You're strong, loyal, proud, smart. Everything a Malfoy lady needs to be."

His eyes twinkle as he speaks without hesitation. I almost laugh, expecting this to be a joke, but judging by the smile on his face, he doesn't seem to be kidding.

"What about your father...?"

Draco's smile fades, and he looks uneasy.

"He doesn't hate you," He starts slowly. "He's proud I've found someone like you, but it's... harder for him to let go of the principles of which his whole life was built but, he supports me in my desires. A future with you is what I desire," he confesses. "I always imagined a love like my parents had for each other, and I found that in you. You encouraged me, and I encouraged you— your dreams were my dreams and vice versa. We wanted all the same things in life and intellectually stimulated each other as well. You were – _are_ \- all I ever wanted in a lover."

His eyes shine, and I find myself lost in the world he's describing. _Our world. _

I don't realize I'm leaning towards him before he matches me. His hand is in my hair, and his lips are on mine, and I experience a warmth I would have never expected. His lips are soft, his skin like silk. The scent of peppermint washes over me, clouding my mind and preventing me from recoiling. His tongue explores my mouth, and he moans. The sound snaps me out of the haze- _what am I doing?_ I retreat as my hand flies to my lips, thoughts fly through my brain faster than I can process. What on earth just happened?

"I must have misread, I apologize. I won't, again, if you don't want..."

I stare at him dumbly as my heart pounds once more. He takes a deep, shaking breath before his grey eyes pierce mine.

"I want you to come home, Hermione. I think you'd do better off to remember at home- our home. For you to go back to work instead of hiding at Potter and she-Potter's house." His face falls into a stoic mask as if prepared for the worse. I don't know why, but I find myself whispering,

"...Okay."

_Okay! Okay? Okay. _My mind races as I try to figure out where that came from. Why would I agree to go home _with him?_ It feels like nothing makes sense, but that kiss...

My hand reaches up to my lips again, and my ring catches my eye, reminding me that it's where I'd be without this accident in the first place. _This life, this seemingly perfect life- maybe it is mine. I can't seem to pinpoint the logic as to how this became my life, but the way he just made me feel— the only rationale behind that is that this MUST be my life._

I feel my blush creep up as I replay the kiss in my mind, which only makes me imagine the more intimate things we've likely done before. My breathing becomes heavy at the thought of our home, our bed...

I shutter a wave of confusing desire, and my thoughts flicker to Ron and his reply to my owl.

_ I'd love to see you. Tuesday, after work. _

I glance and find Draco already slipped out of my room. I take a breath and put my already fatigued brain to work, thinking about my apparent 'fiance.' In my mind, he feels like a caress that slickens my palms. I think of the dreams that don't feel like dreams. The latest being merely the way his eyes flash like molten steel as he says to me, _'I love you, Hermione.'_ as a lover would to another.

_I should tell him about Ron. It's the proper thing to do. _

I shake my head, brushing off the fear of what Draco might think.

Ron's one of my closest friends. I wouldn't even think about saying anything if I were meeting Harry, why should Ron be any different?

I start to pack and, despite my subconscious knowing that Ron is very much different than Harry, I resolve to not mention our meeting to Draco.

_I'm not hiding anything,_ I tell myself as I fold my favorite periwinkle sweater, _we're just two friends catching up after an accident. After all, it has apparently been years since we were together._

Still, a shred of doubt pangs in my chest as Draco's words echo in the back of my mind.

_Ronald is still in denial. _


	7. Chapter Seven

I run my hands through my hair, almost maniacally as I pace the kitchen. _Why did I do that?_ I panic, _She said yes, though. _I rationalize, _She's doing it. She's actually coming home._

For the first time since my assistant busted into my office the day of her accident, I find myself smiling. She doesn't remember, but she's open to this— open to being with me.

"You're wearing a hole in my floor, you know?" Ginny smirks from the doorway. Her smirk quickly changes to a look of concern. "How'd it go?"

"…I- I kissed her," I say, almost as if I'm asking a question.

Her eyes widen, and she slumps into a chair at the table. It looks like she'll say something - anything – as her mouth opens and closes several times.

"Well? She's been so confused, Draco. I wouldn't worry if she didn't take it well. She's confused about how you got together and feels guilty because she can tell how much you're hurting, which makes her only more confused, really. Not to mention how upset she is, because 'Brightest Witch Of Our Age' can't stand to not know such a massive portion of her life."

My head drops as I slip my hands in my pockets, hoping to keep some composure.

"She kissed me back."

I'm interrupted with a small gasp and greedy eyes as she demands me to continue.

"She – asked if I loved her and for just a moment..." I draw in a ragged breath. "it was like before. She leaned in, and I just – it's natural. I leaned into her, and everything was fine until her brain caught up."

I smirk sheepishly. Things finally felt normal after the worst week of my life—well, since my school days, at least. For that fleeting moment, it felt like I wasn't spiraling out of control anymore. Unable to compartmentalize the fear of losing Hermione, my mind is clouded. I look up to catch She-potter almost frozen in shocked delight.

"I'm going to give her some time to think. I'll be by tomorrow."

I bid both Potters goodbye and floo home. I make myself a steaming mug of earl grey tea, then curl up in my large armchair next to the gently crackling fireplace. I look at the chair next to me and sigh heavily, as for the first Sunday in many years, I was alone to read.

* * *

_Knock. Knock. _

I stand on the porch of the Potter's, palms sweaty and mouth dry. The front door swings open, and I'm surprised to see its Hermione answering the door. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out as I drink her in.

"Oh, hello, Draco..."

I clear my throat as her chocolate mane tosses over her shoulder. She's dressed simply, in relaxed gray slacks and a long-sleeved cotton tee, but that's what I love about her— Hermione Granger could wear nothing but a burlap sack, and she would still be the sexiest woman alive.

"Would you like to grab some lunch?" I finally forced out, the words tumbling clumsily out of me. "We could go for a walk after, talk about things, maybe trigger something before you decide to come home? If you'd like..."

She blinks several times. "That seems logical, yes. Did you have a place in mind?"

I can't help but smile. "We could apparate to that Chinese place you're fond of. It's in muggle London."

Her eyes widen as if she's trying to picture me in a muggle establishment.

"Also, when you decide to come home, would you prefer I prepare a guest room for myself? If you don't feel comfortable sharing our room yet."

"Thank you, Draco. Truly." She pauses, thinking over her words before she says them. "I'm trying— really, I am. You've been very accommodating... But yes, I don't know that I'm quite ready to—well, share a bed with you— yet."

She reaches out but seems to think better of it, dropping it to her side. She brushes past me to collect her coat, and I hear her telling Ginny she'll be out. Ginny shouts a response as she tries to get James to make up his mind on what he wishes for lunch. Harry claps my shoulder on his way in for lunch.

"Ready?" I ask.

Hermione grasps my arm, and I clasp her hand as we turn on the spot, the familiar tightness, and the sounds of cars passing the dark alley came into sound. I'm pleasantly surprised she doesn't release my hand as I steer her towards Chang's. The hostess greets us by name and walks us to our usual booth. I order our usual and catch myself as Hermione tilts her head.

"Unless you wanted something else?" I gesture.

"It's just odd... hearing things you know about me come from your mouth." She nibbles her bottom lip. "Nice to know I'm still me is all I mean."

"Of course, you're still you. I haven't swooped in, and poof Hermione's gone." My mood darkens slightly. As if she feels like I've brainwashed her. I scoff, scowling into my drink.

"That's not what I – I didn't mean to sound as if –" she takes in a large breath like she does when she needs to calm her racing mind. "I woke up with my belongings in a bag. An iceberg for a ring, an obviously expensive ensemble, and a diamond necklace – engaged to the most eligible pureblood bachelor –"

"Former bachelor," I correct.

Her eyes narrow at me, cutting her off, and she continues. "It's just reassuring to know that I still enjoy the things outside of becoming Mrs. Malfoy." She gives me a small smile as she begins to dig into all of her favorites. We eat in peaceful silence, and I hear her sputter when I pull out muggle money to pay for dinner. I shoot her a signature Malfoy smirk as I grab her coat for her. Again, she doesn't pull away as I grasp her hand to make way to a nearby park. She talks about the new books she's picked up and asking about our library, of course. She's surprised when I tell her we live on the same street as Potter, smiling as I explained how I'd have never dreamed of pulling her away from the man who may as well be her brother and his wife, her best friend. She begins to slow her pace, turning towards me. The breeze plays with her hair, spiraling the scent of her around us. She looks up, and blush makes its way up her neck. Her eyes remind me of melted chocolate, garnished with 24 karat gold flakes. She's so beautiful; she takes my breath away.

"Hermione..."

My hand slips into her hair at the nape of her neck, and my voice sounds husky as I tell her I love her. Our lips connect for the second time since her accident, and it takes all my self-control not to whisk her away to our bedroom suite. Instead, I rememorize the taste of her. Spearmint. I run my right hand down her side as my left clutches her locks. I nibble her lip, just as I know she likes it. She's kissing me back, one hand planted on my shoulder and the other running through my hair. I moan against her lips, pressing her against me. I never want this to end, but, too soon, she pulls away. Breathless and slightly tussled, she eyes me curiously and licks her lips. My cock twitches, aching for her. She begins down the path again.

"So... how did this begin?" She gestures her hand between the two of us.

"I thought Ginny caught you up to speed with everything?"

"I wasn't very receptive the first time we talked, and then she just glossed over the details. Working together, friends, your drunken stupor. I just need to hear it from you." she breathes.

Chuckling, I begin to tell her about how fiery she was learning we'd be working together.

"Weren't about to take any shit from me."

She smiles a small smile, "Sounds about right."

"Lectured about 'pulling my own weight' 'I got my eye and wand on you, Malfoy'"

I mock playfully in my best swotty imitation.

"Finally, you realized I was serious about turning over a new leaf. We became friendly, which led to us being friends, which led me to your front door in the middle of the night, drunk mind you, because over time, I fell in love. I fell in love with the way you furrow your brow when you work, the stubborn set of your jaw when you were arguing something you believed in. Your passion— _Merlin, _your passion, Hermione. The way you love. It's a marvel how anything could ever be wrong in the world when you love someone."

I can almost hear her mind processing the information I'm telling her.

"And after you showed up at my door?" she whispered.

"You lectured me about my drinking habits, then," I let out a small chuckle. "When I woke, you had gone into work early. I went by your office, and it seemed as if you weren't going to acknowledge me kissing you at all when suddenly, you threw your work on the desk, asking me where I got off kissing you at. You got really worked up, pacing, wringing your hands together. You informed me about how our friendship was fine before I had to 'go and ruin everything.' I almost believed you. Then you looked at me. Like I said, Hermione, your passion. It's unparalleled. I crossed the office you just moved into, and that time you kissed me back."

I relaxed back into my seat and smiled.

"and we've been together ever since. Of course, you insisted on being Minister of Magic before we marry. Which, I've mostly respected." I smirk. "I've only insisted once or twice on being married beforehand."

"I- so how long is ever since?" she sits at a bench along the path, digesting information.

"Six and a half years." I brush her hair behind her ear as the wind begins to let loose a few strands. Palm resting against her cheek once her hair is captured once more.

"We've come so far. We were so happy— I suppose it was only Merlin's way of letting me know I never deserved you." I extend my hand to help her off the bench. "Any other questions from the gallery, madam?"

"That's all I need, for now." She smiles a small smile, and we head out of the park towards an alley.

"I have one for you. How much time will you need? To come back home, that is?"

I wait patiently for an answer that's been plaguing me since she left the hospital.

"I can have everything ready tomorrow if you'll come by after work. Harry says you've just been promoted to Head. Congratulations, Draco, truly. You should go back to work full time. Working from home and popping in when you feel like you can isn't good for your career," She smiles softly. "Even if your fiancée is attacked and loses about eight and a half years of her memory..."

Tomorrow. The rest of her lecture is lost to me as I sigh in relief. There's still some elitist out there out for Hermione, and all my instincts scream to hide her away until the threat is neutralized. So far, all Harry's tracker spell on that low life scum has brought forth is messengers and middlemen. Soon. Soon the people responsible will make a slip, or we'll run into someone who knows something. Until then, I want to hoard her away, The Dragon and Gryffindor's Princess.


	8. Chapter Eight

_Just focus on packing, Hermione. _

My mind races as I try, once again, to come to terms with what I'm doing.

_You're only doing exactly what you were before your injury. _

I think again of all we talked about last night. From the information I have, I can see how Draco and I would have come together. We have had a great life together. Equals as intellectuals, both successful professionally, similar favorite past times— he knows all the social etiquette to be the Minister's husband.

_Minister... _

How cruel, that just as everything I ever worked for was ripped away right as it was coming together. I need to get back into the running. I need my life back.

I try and push through the recesses of my mind, desperate for my memories, but all it gains me is a migraine. I groan and continue to pack. I run across Ron's letter as I'm finishing up. I smack my head in frustration— I'd forgotten all about meeting him today. I bite my lip as I recall how open and mesmerizing Draco was yesterday. His eyes were soft as he described our life together. He seemed so... in _love._

I can't see Ron right now. It's too confusing. Ron feels familiar, like returning to my childhood home, but Draco feels like the future. I begin to pen up some excuse but falter. Where do I even start? I decide to take a less than Gryffindor approach. Cowardly, I decide— I just won't be here when he arrives. I grab my bags and head downstairs. With Ginny at practice and Harry at work, I let myself to the floo.

"Malfoy/Granger Residence," I say, loud and clear.

I close my eyes and hold my elbows in tight. I spin around and around then step out of the hearth, brushing excess ash from my clothes. I gasp as I realize our floo is in our library.

Dropping my bags, I drink in the sight of floor to ceiling bookcases. I inhale the scent of books mixed with cedar. My eyes water as I skim through the different sections of first edition education texts, fiction, non-fiction, legal writings, even a section solely devoted to ancient books passed down through pureblood families. There's a window seat that overlooks the back yard; I imagine myself in five years, settling in to read with the sounds of children playing outside. I envision myself buried in a book on a stormy autumn night, rain beating across the window as I cuddle into a blanket with a cup of piping hot tea.

I find that I've now circled the entire room as I run my knee into an armchair. Swearing under my breath, I observe the set up more closely. Two armchairs with a small table nestled between them, positioned in front of the fireplace. I smile; it looks like the two of us enjoy reading by a fire. The fireplace suddenly whirs to life. I look up, expecting Draco to step out of the emerald flames. My stomach drops—I find myself not face to face with Draco, but with Ron instead.

"You weren't at Harry's..." He said, looking uncertain. "I thought you might be here instead."

His statement hangs heavy like a curtain. The weight of what it means clear on his face. I've chosen Draco again.

"I figured it was time. Don't you?"

I wrap my arms around my torso protectively. I'm home. I've decided to get my life back. I've made my choices. He tentatively steps forward, closing the space between us.

"' Mione, is there no part of you that feels like maybe this was by the fates? You wanted to be Minister, I wanted a family. Now, here you are, on the cusp of everything you ever wanted, yet your memories after us are gone." His eyes plead, and he reaches for my hand. "We can have all we ever wanted. I pushed too hard, and I realize I pushed you away in trying to get what I wanted. I didn't take the time to give you what you wanted. For that, I'm sorry, Hermione, please."

His blue eyes twinkle, and before I have time to react, he's pulling me into his embrace. He smells familiar, I catch myself thinking. He sighs into my hair; is he thinking the same thing?

"Ron – I"

My voice cracks, and before I know it, his lips are on mine.

_Familiar..._

I'm about to pull away, to let him know that we should leave us in the past, but the floo whirs and breaks us apart. My heart pounds a powerful drum against my chest as I turn and face my fiancé. His hand grips his wand so tightly, his knuckles are white, and my mouth dries at his murderous expression.

"Draco! It's- it's not what it-"

"Oh? It's not? It's not what it looks like?" he spits, cutting me off venomously. "Because it looks like my fiancée is kissing her fucking ex. In OUR home, mind you."

I look to Ron, who, for once, seems to be paralyzed.

"We- we- we were just—" I try,

My explanation tapers off before Draco grabs Ron by the collar and throws him to the fireplace, hissing for him to get out in an extremely vehement manner. I vaguely register the floo whir until the heat from the flames dissipates. I glance at Draco and recoil. His cheeks are flushed in anger, but his eyes scream his pain. His eyes meet mine for a split second, and he turns away almost immediately. His breath is ragged.

"What is it you want, Hermione?" He asks, his voice icy but calmer than I anticipate, "I understand this is hard for you, but you're not the only one this has affected. This is hard for me too. You feel like you've lost your life, but you're not the one stuck with the memories watching as the person you love doesn't even recognize you. Just tell me what you want."

"Draco, I've made my choice –"

"Weasley? Is that what this is?" His words cut through me like a sharp knife, "Couldn't even wait to be out of the home we've shared first?"

I start to attempt to explain once more, but he cuts me off with a harsh barking laugh.

"Really shouldn't be all that surprised, I suppose. Sounds about right, yeah? I fall in love with the very thing I was taught to fear and hate the most, and now here we are."

He throws his arms out as if to showcase me in a demonstration.

"So, just go ahead, get on with it! Walk out the door—you're too good for a Death Eater anyhow,"

His face hardens and turns cold, almost as if he's turned to marble.

"–you always were," he adds, almost under his breath.

"Draco, just let me talk, please. This isn't— didn't mean for this to happen. I asked Ron to meet me at Harry's, yes, but after seeing you, I couldn't do it, so I came home. Here. I didn't think he'd come here after I wasn't there. Ron is...what I remember but— please, Draco! Let me finish!" I reach for him as he walks towards the door. "Ron is what I remember—he kissed me, and I really was pulling away as you came home," I call out.

He stops and turns around. His grey eyes flicker as he looks at me, skeptical but curious as to what I will say next. I take a shaking breath and continue.

"You, Draco," I say, locking eyes with him, "My future is with you. I don't know myself right now. I– I feel like I can't trust my own thoughts and feelings, but I need to see what this is. I made the decision to come home, and I will stand by that."

I gasp as he charges and collides into me. His hand twists into my hair at the nape of my neck. His lips are hungry as he kisses me, claiming me, laying his stake. I open up to him, fueling and allowing his desperation. His tongue slips into my mouth, sliding over my own. His other hand presses into my hip as he squeezes me to him. He nibbles my lip and, I moan and my mind clouds with desire. He murmurs my name with a shuddered breath. He releases me and steps back, breathless, leaving me weak at the knees. He begins to pace with his head in his hands, his movements jerky, and unlike his natural grace. He stops to speak, but simply closes his mouth, and begins pacing again. With each pass, I feel more on edge. Stupid, really. Why did I want to meet with Ron, to begin with? My eyes land on Draco again, and I feel compelled to say something – anything to break the apparent internal struggle he's suffering. I rack my brain for some inspiration.

"Would you.. like some tea?" I ask lamely, internally facepalming.

_Tea. Tea? That's all I can come up with? _He looks thrown at my suggestion, but his voice is husky and quiet.

"That'd be nice."

Instantly, I rush past him, grateful he's stopped pacing. I'm in the hallway before my step falters.

"Er-Draco?" He hums in acknowledgment. "Where exactly do I get tea?" The look on his face is pure confusion as he answers me.

"The kit- Oh." He chuckles lightly. "Would you like a tour?"

He offers his hand as his gaze pierces through me. Our hallway is bright, with many pictures of us and our friends lining the walls. I slow my pace, greedy for anything that could bring something forward. A view of us as Draco tumbles us into the snow. Another one of us waving from some beach. One of us kissing in front of our home, waving the key in front of the camera. I stop as we get to a picture of myself in a beautiful dress, hair in an elegant twist with ringlets framing my face. Draco is in dress robes that match his eyes perfectly. Behind us are my parents, Draco's parents, and beside us is Harry, Ginny, Blaise, Pansy, and another girl I think I remember from Hogwarts. I watch the loop as they all jostle each other playfully. Draco and I look into each other's eyes, and my fingers brush the frame.

"The day you said yes." I hear behind me. "One of the happiest days of my life."

We continue down, and I laugh as I reach a painted portrait of us hanging in the space across from stairs leading down. There are doors on either side of the said portrait, and Draco explains one is the room we share together, and the other has been prepared for him.

"Normally, this would be our guest room. The other doors down the hallway are- are for our children." He looks down at his feet before meeting my eyes. "Whenever you're ready for them."

He offers his hand again as we head down the stairs. With a curve, the stairs give a semblance of privacy as what I assume is the living room comes into view. The fireplace lights instantly, light dancing off the deep green marble. The room is decorated in a mixture of earthy colors. Bringing deep mossy greens, blues, golds, and reds together without being overwhelming. Pictures line the mantel as well, telling a story full of love and happiness. If there was any doubt left, this home would be able to squash it out. Love permeated every square inch of the structure. He pulls me through the formal dining room into the kitchen.

"There are two doors under the stairs in the living room. A study for you and a study for me. There's the sunroom off the backside of the living room, and that covers it."

I set to making tea, searching cabinets, trying to make a mental note of where everything is located as Draco sits at the bar observing me.

"Do you like it?" He almost looks unsure.

"It's amazing. I'm honestly surprised, though. I was expecting something like the Manor. It's grand in its own way, but it's not... excessive. I love it."

I move towards him, placing my hands over his. He's rigid, and I can tell his mind is still on what he came home to even though he seems to have set it aside for the time being. He pulls me into his embrace slowly and buries his nose into my hair. His hand slides to the base of my neck, and as light, like a feather, his lips brush mine. His eyes search mine, and the kettle begins to shriek. I prepare a tray, and he levitates it in front of us as he sets off. To the right of the stairs, he opens a door. Bookshelves line the walls. They all appear to be legal texts. A large mahogany desk sits in the center of the room. The window behind my desk overlooks the backyard.

He has the tea tray set on my desk and begins to make our tea. I'm not even surprised when I find he made it exactly how I like it. The warmth of the tea relaxes me after the tragedy earlier. I shake my head, still unsure of what I thought seeing Ron would have accomplished. I love Ron, honestly, but out of all the things that are different in my life now versus then, not being with him makes sense. I guess I wanted something run-of-the-mill in a life that is entirely different from what I remember.


	9. Chapter Nine

I officially have over 100 followers to this story! I honestly can't believe it! Here's a present ;)

* * *

As I vanish the tea tray to the kitchen, my mind is a jumble of memories and thoughts. I focus on Occlumency to push away the unwanted, but the vision of her and Weaslebee jumping apart as I entered the library doesn't seem to want to stay buried.

_You, Draco. My future is with you. _

I remember her words in my mind for every replay of them jumping apart, and I assume this how people become insane. Lacking Occlumency, no ability to push away the unwanted behind a wall, would surely do it.

I open the door to our suite, and Hermione walks on slowly. Hand brushing over our bed top, and I think of the last time she was in it almost two weeks ago, screaming my name.

She notices the French doors and throws them open with curiosity. The breeze commands her mane as she steps onto the balcony overlooking the back yard, and the setting sun reminds me that we haven't yet eaten.

She moves to the closet, just peering in, appearing surprised at the row of expensive dress robes, comfortable muggle clothes, and gowns for various charity events. She fingers the satin material of one sumptuous emerald green gown, her eyes searching the article as if she's hoping it will trigger a memory. I'm disappointed it doesn't.

She makes her way into our en suite, throwing open yet another set of french doors. Her hand glides over the edge of the porcelain clawfoot bathtub before doing a complete 360-degree scan of the suite. Her face is hard to read, and I'm hoping she likes our home.

"Uhm, would you like to go out to eat?" I say, shifting my weight uncomfortably. "It's becoming rather late."

Her head tilts to the side and scrunches like it does when she's confused.

"Don't you have a house-elf?"

I'm convinced she's joking and begins to laugh boisterously.

"Are you legitimately being serious?" I ask, through a snort.

She scowls and crosses her arms in front of herself. I take a breath, steadying my laughter. I can't help but smile,

"No, Hermione, we no longer have house-elves."

Her face turns into one of disbelief as I lean back against the sink vanity. I smile once more and explain that while Malfoy men are known as cold and aloof, our women are treasures to us.

"and baby, I'm a dragon."

As we walk hand in hand to the floo, headed out to our favorite restaurant, I notice her gripping my hand tighter and more confident than she has before.

* * *

I wake disoriented the next morning, not used to waking in the guestroom. The room feels sterile and foreign, compared to the warmth of our suite we typically shared.

Entering the guestroom's en suite, I quickly shower and prepare for work. I set to the kitchen to make some tea, hoping my fiancée wakes before I leave. I have a spot of breakfast as I fill my thermos with steaming coffee, then head to the library.

I falter at the hearth of the floo as yesterday's scene of her and Weasley flashes in my memory. A flash of jealousy and possession courses through me as I step back from the crackling, diminishing emerald flames. I've never NOT trusted her before, so why was there all of a sudden, a fear that I would come home to the same— or worse —scene?

I quickly pen a note to Astoria, suggesting a visit once Hermione wakes. Astoria would keep her occupied for me today.

I call our owl, Cepheus, over before I can feel guilty.

"Take this to Astoria,"

I feed him a treat and open the window for him, guilt hitting me only when Cepheus becomes a small speck on the horizon.

What is wrong with me? She said she chose me!

I've never doubted her before, but in the same instance, I've never felt so insecure before either. Strong. Confident. It's how Malfoy men are. The world is at our feet, yet it feels like the rug was pulled from under mine lately.

I head into work, scolding myself for stooping so low as to have actually arranged a chaperone for my fiancée. She'd be furious with me if she ever knew I had the gall to have her babysat, whether or not she had her memories. I step into the lift as I imagine the way her eyes would light as if on fire. I thought of the blush that would creep up her neck, and her fingers snapping as she scolded me. I groan- she'd undoubtedly kill me.

Apparently, my groan opens an invitation to be asked how Hermione is doing from the bloke next to me. No one else speaks, but I see almost everyone slightly turn as if to get in the best position to hear my reply. I repress a scowl,

"She's well," I say cooly, "She should be back to work once she has her follow-up appointment at St. Mungo's at the end of this week."

Skirting out of the lift, I make my way down the hall towards my office. It almost feels like a dream, to be headed to the office of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and it is my office,

"Good morning, Jacob," I drawl as he hands me this morning's memos. "Anything pressing I need to do this morning?"

"No, sir, nothing terribly pressing, just the usual paperwork," Jacob says "The Italian Ambassador did request lunch with you later this week,"

"Excellent, I'll reply straight away," I waste no time to get straight to business. "Thank you, Jacob, that'll be all."

"Of course," Jacob turns to leave, but then suddenly turns back "Uh, sir? How is Hermione Granger doing?"

I should be flattered that so many people were concerned about my fiancee's well-being. Still, I found it annoying to keep saying the same news over and over. Nevertheless, I know Jacob is just being polite, so I force a cordial smile.

"She's well, thank you for asking."

After sending an owl to the Italian Ambassador confirming out lunch for later this week, I dive into the mountain of paperwork Jacob had left for me at the corner of my desk. I work well past lunch, determined to not think about yesterday, and how I betrayed my future wife this morning in retaliation.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap._

Bleary-eyed, I stretch out upon the bed and reach for my wand on the bedside table. Through heavy eyelids, I spot an owl at the window, tapping the window incessantly. With a flick of my wand, the owl swoops inside and drops the letter at my side. Obviously, this one is a regular as next it flies directly to the desk and pecks its beak at a jar of owl treats neatly displayed.

I roll over lazily and reach for the letter, relishing the feel of the smooth, silk sheets. I tear open the envelope, furrowing my brow at the handwriting I didn't recognize.

_H-_

_Dear Draco told me about your memory. Nevertheless, I figured we could get reacquainted as we were – are- very close friends. I await your reply. _

_Xoxo _

_Astoria _

I read over the letter several times, futilely trying to place Astoria in my mind. Dear Draco? For a brief moment, I consider declining. Instead, I take the plunge to figure out our connection and deduce it might also be nice to get out of the house.

_Astoria, _

_That would be _

Ink drips as I try to find the words.

_Lovely. Frank's, in an hour? _

_-Hermione _

I tie my reply to the owl's leg, ensuring a treat before it flew off, hooting happily. I then wander to the en suite to shower, still amazed that I live in such a lovely home. Malfoy money hopefully well spent, I reckon.

Astoria's owl returned with her acceptance by the time I make my way to my closet, choosing to don a cream cashmere jumper and dark boot-cut jeans. I use my wand to dry my unruly hair into submission and head to the floo.

Being sure to tuck my elbows in, I call out for Diagon Alley. I spin through the floo network, reappearing only moments later inside the hearth of The Leaky Cauldron. Brushing soot off my jumper, I leave the small pub to find Diagon Alley bustling with shoppers. A lazy breeze swirls my hair around me as I attempt to regain order. I stroll past shoppers peering into shop windows and a family huddled together, arguing which store to enter first. I also pass a man disappearing into an alley as I catch his eye, something that gave me goosebumps, but I chose to ignore it. Finally, I see a woman about my age, standing in front of my favorite bookstore. Her hair is a soft brown, her eyes blue, and I can tell she's pureblood by the way she carries herself. She has that same natural grace as Draco. I vaguely recognize her from a picture hanging in our hall.

"Oh, Hermione! You have no idea how pleased I am that you agreed." She hugs me one-handed lightly. "Of course, you'd choose to meet in your and Draco's favorite haunt. That memory of yours will be back again in no time that I'm sure."

"Astoria, nice to meet – see you." I shuffle my feet, looking around the street.

"I hope you don't mind, dear— poor Draco came to me about the whole ordeal. A downright mess, he is. I haven't seen him this out of wits in years. You know how protective he can be. Oh, yes, well, I guess you wouldn't anymore. I apologize."

We enter a store for lingerie, and I skid to a stop.

"This is... new."

I can feel my blush creeping up my neck as I spot some racier items that don't leave much to the imagination. I idly wonder if some of these pieces are apart of my wardrobe. Draco and I have been together for over six years, so it's childish to imagine that we haven't had sex. I realize that Astoria had been speaking and was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn't heard.

"I'm sorry?" I mumble.

She lets out a peal of laughter like bells ringing.

"Same old Hermione, so lost in thought. Have you started planning for the gala, dear?"

Confusion strikes as I sputter out, "Gala? What gala?"

Her eyes widen as if I've grown an extra head.

"Oh my. I can't believe dear Draco-"

I mouth 'dear Draco' again, but she doesn't notice. I'm not jealous, I'm not.

"-Didn't at least tell you. Of course, you're in no state to plan…"

I zone out as Astoria titters on, touching various pieces of merchandise.

"-From the Ashes."

I hum in acknowledgment. "And that would be?"

I'm just about to zone out again when she says,

"Your and Draco's non-profit, of course!"

My attention snaps to her immediately. "Non-profit?" I ask greedily. "we have a non-profit?"

"' From The Ashes' is your non-profit program for muggle-born children and families,"

She pauses, allowing me to absorb the information.

"It's named after the cycles of a Phoenix," she continues after a moment. "Draco figured something good had to come from two wars and many years of hate. Before, someone would come and explain a child is a witch or wizard, how to get to Diagon Alley, and help with currency if needed, and then that was that. Your non-profit assigns a member to each muggle-born family. They tour them around Diagon Alley, helping in any way possible to integrate muggle-borns into the magical community without fear or uncertainty."

Astoria turns her head back to me, giving me a polite smile.

"It was something he created for you, Hermione. 'No muggle-born should ever have to endure what you have ever again,' He'd said to you when he presented you with the idea. So far, you've helped countless families and passed several laws protecting muggle-borns from discrimination."

My breath halts, and I'm just gaping at what I've just learned about my fiancé.

"I can't believe that."

Tears swim in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Astoria doesn't seem to notice and continues on.

"Then there's also S.P.E.W. that he funded and help you push laws more... _reasonable_ before the ancient houses and the Wizengamot. Not free, but humane conditions." She adds nonchalantly as she browses.

My mind races, and it feels like I'm not getting enough oxygen in here. I stumble out into the front of the shop. All that he's done, he did...for _me_? Astoria walks out moments later,

"Are you okay, darling?"

I suck in a deep breath of fresh air, then grab her arm.

"We have to go to the Ministry. Now."

* * *

A knock pulls me from my filing, and the object of my guilt stands before me with a brown paper bag in her delicate hands.

"Astoria came by today. Thankfully she owled first, her friendship is lost to me too. We're getting reacquainted, but I wanted to drop off some lunch. I hope you haven't eaten."

She kisses my cheek and places the bag on my desk.

"I'll see you at home." She pauses at my door. "She informed me about our program and that planning for next year's charity events for 'From the Ashes' will need to start soon."

I'm unsurprised to find tears in her eyes and walk around my desk to embrace her. I am, however, surprised when she launches into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her fingers twist in my hair as she kisses me. She wraps her legs around my hips, and if I knew this would be her response, I'd have told her about our program the moment she woke in that damned hospital.

I stumble back, and she's nibbling my lip. Her knees find the desk, and my head begins to spin as I grab her ass. She's sucking on my neck and_ Merlin—_ it's been almost two weeks since we've lasted fucked. My hands press into her hips as I pull her back to me. My tongue entwines with hers, and she's exploring my body with her hands. She pushes against my erection and surprises me by grinding against me before pulling back.

"We don't normally go so long... without sex," I mutter sheepishly.

Her face turns red at what I assume is the thought of us fucking, remembering that she doesn't have any memories of us. As far as she's concerned, she's done something naughty with a former enemy, not made out with her fiancé.

"Not to mention, this response was completely unexpected, again." I chuckle. I straighten myself and get up as she prepares to leave. "I'll see you at home. Brainstorm some ideas, and I'll give it some thought while I eat."


	10. Chapter Ten

I can't believe I practically assaulted him—in the Ministry, no less! I walk to the lifts almost in a sprint as my cheeks redden. People stop and stare; logically, I know it's because I haven't been seen at work since my accident but, a part of me feels like my thoughts are written across my forehead.

Once I reach the lobby, I grab Astoria and shove us into the closest floo and whisk us away into the library.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Astoria coughs out. "Did something happen?"

"I – uh – thanked him a bit more generously than I planned... for 'From The Ashes.' Not to mention, we don't have house-elves, and he helped me push for better laws for other elves. All you and I talked about today really just came forward when I saw him,"

I smiled to myself as I continued.

"I had no idea all he's done for me over the years we've been together. He never tried to throw it in my face after I lost my memory. There was no 'look what I've done,' which leads me to believe he indeed did all of them because he supports me in whatever I want instead of doing them to win me over."

She fingers the spine of a book. "Well, I can assure you, dear Draco is madly in love with you. He'd do anything that he thought might make the world a place worthy of you to live in."

I hardly notice another 'dear Draco' from Astoria, as my mind was spinning around _'madly in love with you.'_

"I really must be going, dear. It was simply lovely to spend today with you." She grips my hand softly. "I've missed my friend."

She turns and floos out. I make my way to my room as I think of all the things Astoria told me of today. Of all the charity events, galas, meetings that Draco and I have hosted. How he came up with 'From The Ashes' and how helpful that would've been when I was eleven. My parents were often unsure of what to do and what was going on.

I can hardly believe the laws he's helped me get passed regarding house-elves. Someone who grew up with house-elves was willing to see they get better working conditions, as well as making it illegal to beat them or require they beat themselves. Even my best friends weren't that interested in S.P.E.W., yet here was _Draco Malfoy, _of all people, making a real difference in the world in honor of me.

I make my way into my closet, fingering the different dresses there. I reach one in particular, strapless, floor-length, and red, with a gentle slit up the side. I wasn't sure if I'd ever owned anything so sophisticated, and I wondered if I'd ever worn this gown yet.

I pull the dress out of the closet and hold it up to me in the floor-length mirror. A memory snaps seemingly out of nowhere to the front of my mind.

_I look over the ballroom as I make my way slowly down the stairs. Ever the gentleman, my boyfriend is waiting for me at the bottom. He offers his arm and kisses my cheek. _

_"You look stunning." He whispers in my ear. _

_I mingle with the packed crowd as, suddenly, fire shoots off from the stage. There are gasps of surprise from around the room that turns into applause as Draco makes his way up. _

_"Welcome all to what will hopefully become an annual event! Tonight launches a program I've been working on extensively. So dig deep in your pockets," he chuckles. "because you're going to want to be apart of history here. Introducing, 'From The Ashes' a non-profit program to better integrate muggle-borns and their families into the wizarding community."_

_ Applause rings from around the room, and I'm clapping viciously. Tears stream down my face as he makes his way to me again. My mouth catches him, and I murmur, "I love you, Draco Malfoy." _

_"I love you, too, Hermione. No muggle-born should ever have to endure what you have ever again." _

My lip splits under the pressure of my teeth, and I taste blood as the memory tumbles forward. I mutter a simple healing charm, then stare at the dress. I was wearing this when our program launched.

_I love you, Draco Malfoy. _

I gasp at what this means. It's not all gone! I try to push for more, but nothing else comes. Elation turns to frustration, but I can see it now. In all the ways, I would've loved him. I would have loved him deeply. As if he were forever engrained a part of me. It would have felt as natural as breathing as if life with him was always the only outcome.

I think of all the ways he ever hurt me. My tears as he taught me what it meant to be a muggle-born in the wizarding community. Of how his actions as an indoctrinated child shaped the ways he wanted to change the future and to prevent any future muggle-borns from those feelings.

I shove the dress back into the closet and wander into the library to sit and give my mind a rest. After my mind proves too active to be on its own, I decide to floo call Ginny. A moment later, she walks in with James in tow.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?"

She looks at me with soft suspicion from the urgency in my voice when I called. Just as I'm about to delve into the explanation and meaning of my memory, I falter.

"I just – wanted a friendly face— new place, and all." I smile sheepishly. "Well, not technically new but all the same. I – uh missed my best friend. Do I need more reason than that?"

"Right. Of course, you don't, silly."

I can tell she's not buying it, but she lets the matter go as she rushes to pull the first edition out of James' toddler clutches. She transfigures a couple of paperweights into suitable enough toys and takes up residence in Draco's chair. I wring my hands together, taking refuge in my own armchair, tucking my legs beneath me.

"Astoria told me about 'From the Ashes'."

The statement hangs between us.

"Things really have changed and... – Oh, Ginny! I feel so lost and conflicted. I want to give in to this life, to trust myself. On the other hand, how am I to trust someone I don't know who's - who's.. gone! It's nothing like I imagined at all, but it's not so terrible. Not really."

Ginny reaches for my hand, and I'm relieved there isn't a trace of pity in her face.

"Hermione, you may be the 'Brightest Witch of Our Age,' but sometimes you think too much."

She giggles to let me know it's a lighthearted tease. I contemplate, once again, of telling her about the memory but decide against it. If I remember one, there's no telling how much they'll push for me to remember more. We steer into other topics like how Valmai Morgan, a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, punched a fan who grabbed her ass.

"…knocked one of his teeth out!" Ginny exclaims, laughing.

The floo sounds, and Draco exits, brushing soot off his robes. I cross the room and bring my lips to his as Ginny raises a brow, collecting James and says her farewell. Draco wraps his arms around me, and I find comfort in his embrace. I breathe in the smell of him – juniper and mandarin, today. He sighs,

"I've missed you."

"I-" I panic and instead say, "I hope you had a good day."

He smiles a genuine smile that causes his teeth to flash, and it lights up his face.

"I did. Honestly," Draco lets out a gush of air. "And you don't need to feel obligated over anything Astoria told you today. Our programs will be taken care of, you need not worry." He ends, rubbing his neck as his cheeks tinged pink.

"Thank you, Draco. I have my follow up Friday. I got an owl today about it. Would you like to come?"

He nods in agreement as he leans down to kiss my forehead.

* * *

"No, really, you should go in. My appointment isn't until after lunch. Go, get some work done, then we can go together." I say as I smooth out Draco's pinstriped robes. "Otherwise, you'll drive me crazy by pacing all morning."

He brushes his lips against my cheek, saying he loves me just as he has before work all week. He makes his way to the floo, giving me one last smile before he's whisked away in a whirl of emerald flames.

My morning is spent curled up in my chair in the library before I head down to make some lunch. Once I set my dishes to clean themselves, I decide to make way to my study, hopeful that after today, I'll be back in the running for Minister.

My hand skims a shelf, and I cast a cleaning charm over the room to remove the small layer of dust that has accumulated in my absence. Scanning the titles and framed pictures of varying stages of my life upon my shelves, I flip through some stacks files on my desk, mostly reports and poll numbers. I shuffle through my drawers before I come to one that won't budge.

_"Alohomora,"_

My curiosity spikes when it doesn't unlock. Why would I place an advanced locking charm on a drawer in my own home office? I perform several more advanced unlocking spells before it finally opens.

It's completely empty aside from a few scraps of parchment. Feeling uneasy, I lick my lips and glance around the room. The top letter simply says,

_You've been warned._

I've been warned? Was I- was I being threatened?

I shuffle through the others, all just as vague as the last.

_You just won't listen, will you? Think of Draco, it would be such a shame._

_If you know as much as you claim you do, you'll step back._

_You have your discrimination laws. I'd quit while I was ahead if I were you._

My hands shake as the weight of what this means hits me. It's not over. I've been targeted. Why would I not have reported this? I feel queasy, and I think of Draco. Does he know? Have they threatened him as well? My breathing turns wild as my brain tries to process what today's results will bring to fruition. Can I really just walk away from all I've ever wanted? I glance back to the vague threats.

"There you are!"


	11. Chapter Eleven

I jump as Draco calls out entering my study, and I hastily shut the drawer back, silently recasting the locking charms.

"You ready to – Hermione, are you okay?" his voice is laced with concern. "You look pale."

"Just – fine." I attempt to smile casually, but it comes out a bit forced. "I've been looking over my campaign. A shock, I suppose, it's all I've ever worked for."

He eyes me warily, looking from me to my desk and back. "Right, well, it's 15 till your appointment. We'd best be going, dear."

We make our way into the living room to floo out to St. Mungo's.

"Hermione Granger," Draco announces to the witch behind the desk, and she proceeds to direct us to where we'll be needing to go.

"They informed me they'll be scanning my brain in an attempt to see any damage that may keep my memories locked away. They're hopeful that they can restore them if they can find why this happened. It's one thing to lose all memories but less common to lose only a chunk of time. I could be back to normal soon." I ramble on weakly as we walk to our destination.

Draco hums in acknowledgment, apparently not allowing himself to be too hopeful. We enter the room, and I'm taken aback to see Padma Patil greeting us.

"Hermione. Draco." she nods to each of us, respectively.

"I didn't know – or likely forgot you went into medicine."

"Forgot." She smiles, sympathetically. "Right, then. As I'm sure you're aware, this appointment is to try and get a clearer glimpse into your brain now that you've had time to heal and settle. We'll see if we can't find a solution to get you back into the race for Minister. Britain could really use you. Any questions before we start?"

She directs me to the table, and my nerves are on end. Hoping that this can be behind me soon. I need to know what is going through this Hermione's head. Hiding threats instead of talking to the Head Auror, my best friend. What good could I have possibly thought I was doing? All I did was put myself in danger.

"Cerebrum Inspectionem," Padma mutters as she moves her wand to the side of my head. "Proicere Imagini."

She brings forth a projection of my brain and enlarges it for us. "Things look well, considering." She hums. "The case of your memories, however." She pauses as she moves the spell around. "Do you happen to know Occlumency?"

"I - I'm not sure. I must because I've used it since my accident and I didn't know it in the parts of my life that I remember."

Draco allows me to finish. "She does. She's very skilled, I trained her once it became rumored that Shaklebolt planned to retire early. Occlumency is crucial for a government official to know."

I'm gaping at him and recover quickly.

"There you have it."

Why? Does my Occlumency have something to do with my memories?"

"Here we will have to traverse from fact into guesswork, but it appears as if you started to shut down your mind, from the attack I assume, should your security have been breached. As you were pulling up your shields, must have been when your head smacked into the marble. Here you see the impact. It's healed, of course, but you will always be able to see the evidence of that fall on a scan."

She points to a white area where my head was impacted. "You can see here where the white spreads like streams throughout your brain, blocking and surrounding certain parts of your brain. It's not as severe in coloring as your injury, so I'm fairly certain that these memories aren't lost to you. At least, not permanently." She smiles softly at me and squeezes my hand.

"Guesswork? That's the best you can give us?" Draco growls sourly.

Her voice is clipped as she turns a harsh gaze to him. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Guesswork. Highly skilled guesswork, if you please. I can not back this claim as fact as I was not in your fiancée's mind while she was under attack."

She ends the spell and turns to me, returning to her soft expression as she begins to question me.

"Any tenderness? Blurry vision? Nausea? Dizziness?"

"No, no, no, and no."

"That pretty much concludes what we can do for you today. I'll be sending this scan to some colleagues of mine, with your permission here, of course. We'll begin research to formulate a potion allowing your mind to release your memories."

I sign Padma's release forms, eager for my life back, realizing that'll include Draco. Sneaking a glance at Draco, I find his head in his hands as if in prayer and feel a pang for him. The woman he loves is gone, even if for only the time being. She's gone because of what she was hiding. What _I_ was hiding.

Padma and I shake hands. As I thank her, I turn to find Draco rounding the corner out of the door. I smile sheepishly back at Padma and take off. I have to jog to catch up, his long strides already putting him halfway down the hall. I reach him and grab his arm.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Draco pulls his arm from my grip and lets out a frustrated growl. He buries his face in his hands then runs them through his hair, looking everywhere but at me.

"I miss my fiancée, okay, Granger?"

I scowl. "I a-"

He eyes me as if to issue me not to challenge him further.

"You're not. Physically, you are. But mostly, you're not." He clenches his teeth and takes a deep breath. "I miss my Hermione. We had a future planned together, and now I'm floating on borrowed time. I can tell you wish you'd have woken up engaged to anyone but me. You were mine, and I just want my fiancée back. I miss our conversations. Kissing you without seeing a moment where your self-loathing is all over your face. Telling you, 'I love you' and hearing it back even though I don't deserve it. I miss your passion, hearing about your day at work, dinners with you, planning our wedding for once you're Minister. The-"

His cheeks tinge pink, and he snaps his mouth shut. He looks into my eyes, and I feel like he can see straight to my soul.

"So you see, I'm kind of pissed. It's not like I can be mad at you, and the Aurors still aren't any closer to finding out who ordered this attack, so it's just been eating at me with nowhere to go."

He shakes his head, turning sharply, leaving me dumbfounded at his kind words with an aggressive tone.

I can feel a heat creep up my neck at his suggestion that he can't be mad at me. I should have never kept those threats hidden. Again, I wonder what could have possessed me to think I could handle this alone.

I know I certainly wished for anyone but him upon finding out, but do I really still feel the same? Not to say I've fallen in love with Draco Malfoy, but I don't find purchase on wondering why we were ever together.

I feel a mixture of frustration and confusion at the words he spoke, and I'm not quite sure how I should feel at this moment. I know for sure, however, that I don't want to leave our conversation like this.

I take off running after him, cursing his long strides once again as I struggle to keep up.

"I don't!" I almost shout, breathing heavily from my sprint.

He turns around, lifting an eyebrow with curiosity. "Pardon?" he asks.

I tilt my chin up slightly, hoping to exude more confidence this way. I fight to even my breath,

"I don't hate you," I say calmly "or myself."

Draco looks at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement, seeming to not understand I'm speaking of his accusations from a few minutes earlier.

"You said when you kiss me, you see self-loathing," I snap, "maybe at first, yes, but could you blame me? How would you feel waking up, thinking you're 20 years old, and your life is one way, only to find you're missing _eight bloody years_ that apparently were the best years of my life!"

I expected Draco to snap a retort at me, but instead, his expression softened. "Best years of your life?" He seems hopeful at this statement.

"Well, I can't remember," I smile sheepishly, "but it seems it would be so."

Draco chuckles, running his tongue along the edge of his teeth as he looks everywhere but at me.

"They were the best years of my life," he says softly.

The urge to kiss him for this statement is overwhelming. Unknowing what possessed me to do so, I throw myself forward, planting my lips onto his with brute force, smacking our teeth together accidentally. He stumbles slightly, seeming prepared to feign off an attack for a moment. He relaxes after a split second, snaking his hand into my hair as I into his. Our tongues swirl together in an intricate pattern as I drink in the entire experience of kissing Draco Malfoy. His kiss sends a wave of electricity through me, and I forget that we are still at St. Mungo's. Everything around us doesn't exist to me at this moment, because right now, he is the only thing I care about.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Her lips are on mine, and I've never felt more at home. Her lip balm tastes like freshly picked strawberries, and it's the best damn thing I've ever tasted.

"Hermione..."

She moans as I mumble her name in her ear. I kiss down her jawline and neck, inhaling her scent. She's mine, and damn it, I've missed this—missed _her._

My head is cloudy once she pulls back and she breathes, "See? No self-loathing." I realize she was making a point versus actually wanting to kiss me.

Her face softens, "You should get back to the Ministry. Also, I think it's best if I return as well. I supposed Monday should be soon enough?"

"You can't!" I all but shout at her, taking us both by surprise. I clear my throat and speak softer. "You can't."

"Pray tell why I can't? You were all for me going back a few weeks ago!" She's glaring at me with her hands on her hips, in all her swotty glory.

"The people who attacked you aren't done. This last time was close enough. I won't lose you – completely."

Her hands fall from her side, and she looks apprehensive.

"How do you know this?" Her eyes refuse to meet mine, and I begin to wonder what she's keeping from me. I explain the insignificance of the guy who attacked her, and she visibly relaxes.

"I'll be okay, Draco. I can't stay trapped at home, and you know I won't. Go back into the office, I think I'll call upon Ginny... o-or Astoria."

At that, I relax and kiss her forehead, before stepping into the floo once more, calling out for the Ministry.

* * *

The sound of my door opening pulls my attention and before I can snap at Jacob, I notice Potter .

"How is she?"

Harry leans against my door frame, looking at me earnestly.

"She's becoming... more receptive to me."

I let out a breath as he sits in a guest chair in front of my desk.

"Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, so keep it to yourself," Harry clasps his hands together, "we got something."

My eyes snap to his, and I search his face. "Something useful, I hope?" I ask with a bit of heat in my voice.

"Another drop," Harry smirks. "How's that for useful?"

The cheeky bastard, I chuckle inwardly.

"Isn't the smirk my signature? When's the drop? Where?" I try to hide the eagerness in my voice but fail miserably.

"Malfoy, you know I won't tell you. I told you this out of courtesy because we're friends, but I can't risk you blowing this. I've got this under control."

I sneer at his response and then begin finishing my report I was working on before Harry stopped by.

"She's coming back Monday. At first, I thought it would be good for her..."

I let my sentence trail as I imagine the worst that could happen. Harry runs his hands down his face.

"I'm surprised she waited this long, to be honest." Harry stands and makes to leave. "I'll er – let you get back to it."

"Later, scar-head," I say with no malice.

He chuckles, "Later, ferret. Dinner at our place tonight. Be there."

I scowl half-heartedly, with a roll of my eyes. Harry leaves my office, and I try to jump back into my paperwork, but my thoughts are distracting. Could this possibly lead to something? It won't bring my Hermione back but praise Salazar if the people behind this receive the Kiss.

I lean back in my seat, trying to think who would order something like this. What would be the motive? She's a part of the 'Golden Trio,'— I roll my eyes and scoff just thinking of the phrase that the Daily Prophet coined. As they put it, she's the Golden Girl, the brains behind the 'Savior of the Wizarding World. Who would want to hire a hit against her?

I tap my quill against my report, lost in thought, until…

No. That's absurd...

I sit up rim-rod straight, slamming my hands on my desk.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

I begin to pace my office, running my hands through my hair roughly, pulling in frustration.

Of course. We're all so blind.

The war may be won, but I have no doubt there are still people who'd do anything to keep a muggle-born from taking office. It's unheard of. The highest position in all of Wizarding Britain going to a muggle-born? That's sure to ruffle pureblood feathers.

Shame washes over me. When I was younger, I'd have felt the same way. My shoulders slouch, and I return to my seat. Instead of continuing with paperwork, I pull a fresh sheet of parchment and begin to think of those who I suspect may not have renounced the old ways.

I scratch my head at my list of potential pure-blood assassins. Was the name of the monster who attacked my fiancée on this list? If so, how the hell was I supposed to figure it out? I couldn't exactly go undercover— I'm too close to Hermione, I'm too easily recognized. Maybe I'd be able to ask for a little help on this matter.

I pen a note to Blaise to meet me for drinks tonight and another to Hermione, letting her know I'll be home late.

* * *

The ice tinkles in my firewhiskey as I watch the door. It's Friday night, which means the Leaky Cauldron is more crowded than average. I nod to Neville as he bustles around, helping his wife, some Hufflepuff broad that bought the place from Tom about two years ago. What the hell was her name again?

Blaise slides into the booth on the opposite side of me, and Theo brings up a chair to the side. I order us a round of Old Ogden's, then put up a Muffliato spell - courtesy of Potter's expert knowledge - as to not be overheard.

"I think I know why Hermione was attacked," I state.

They look at each other then back to me with blank expressions. I lay my list on the table, and Blaise let out a whistle.

"These are all old pureblood names, Draco." he pauses to take a large gulp of his firewhiskey. "Are you thinking this is because she's... muggle-born?" He cocks his eyebrow.

"I could see it," Theo says, a contemplative expression painted over his chiseled features. "Have you told Potter?"

"And have Saint Potter take the glory?" Blaise cuts in, laughing to show his comment is without venom. "Hush, Theo, you're talking crazy over there."

"I don't think Potter is the way to go here," I say pointedly. "I actually had something else in mind."

I stare at Theo and hear Blaise protest.

"What about me? My charm, my grace, my dashing good looks."

As if to prove his point, Blaise flashes a smile showing off his sparkling white teeth against his ebony complexion. He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a swig of his firewhiskey in a way I can only assume is meant to be seductive.

"Yes, so very charming indeed," I say with great sarcasm, rolling my eyes, "but it has to be Theo. You and your mother played neutral in the war, and of course, I very well can't. I'm engaged to a muggle-born. I plan to remove the Malfoy name from the Sacred 28 once Hermione and I have children,"

I wave my hand to Theo as if to introduce him.

"He's our only chance,"

I turn to Theo to see him staring into his glass.

"You're my only chance, Theo."

He claps my hand in a shake. "We've been best mates since nappies. I'll do it. Pass me that list— Blishwick?"

We all laugh, they may be lower status than Malfoy and Nott but still pureblood elitists.

"Bulstrode?"

"No, remember Millicent married that muggle-born bloke," he says.

Blaise cringes behind his drink. "Her parents weren't too happy about that. Although no one else would have her." He shutters.

Theo continues, "Burke, Fawley, Parkinson. The others on here I know have become more progressive. They realize times are changing and don't want to be left out of the new social circles."

I nod. "It was pretty simple. Especially with 'From the Ashes,' just listed those who haven't picked a stance. Millicent obviously has but, her father needs to be scoped still."

I tell the boys I need to get home to Hermione, and we agree to get together tomorrow for Theo's recon mission. I finite my spell and apparate into our living room, landing smoother than I expected after two stiff drinks. I notice the light on Hermione's study and push the door open slightly. Hermione is sitting at her desk, reading a slip of parchment.

"Sorry-"Hermione jumps about a mile and hastily puts the parchment in her top drawer.

Her hand over her heart, "Merlin, Draco! You gave me a fright."

"I apologize, darling. I only meant to let you know I'm home," I nod my head toward the drawer. "What's that?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, that. Nothing, really." She smiles in a way that seems more nervous than reassuring.

"Sure doesn't seem like nothing," I say, a bit more darkly than I mean to.

"It's nothing, Draco." She presses, challenging me.

Her eyes begin to spark, and I'm even more sure than before that it's something. I move around her desk, closing the distance between us, and she juts her chin up at me as I tower her. Her mouth pops open just slightly, and her breathing becomes shallow.

"You were drinking." It's a statement, but it comes out sounding like a question.

"And you're hiding something from me. These are both facts."

The spark in her eye ignites. Just as she's about to begin her tirade, I capture her lips. She's taken off guard, placing her hands on my chest to pull away as my tongue swoops over her bottom lip. Instead she releases a soft moan and grabs my lapels, dragging me to her. I grab her ass with my left hand, gripping her hip with my other.

"I love when you get all Gryffindor guns blazing on me," I whisper into her ear, licking the shell, pulling her lobe into my mouth, sucking lightly.

Our grandfather clock begins to chime, indicating that it's 6 o'clock, and I groan, remembering dinner with the Potter's.

"Curse Potter. We have dinner there tonight," I give her my best Malfoy smirk, shooting her a wink. "Unless you want to cancel."

She swats my chest, "Ginny had stopped by while you were out. I told her we'd be there, so it's too late to rescind our acceptance. I'll grab my coat. We can walk over."

I groan. Hermione may have lost her memories, but some things were just so _Granger_.

I slip my hand into hers once we don our coats, and make our way a few houses down to Potter's, just like the muggles in our town.

We walk in comfortable silence, and my mind wonders to the drawer in her desk. What might she be hiding from me? The slips appeared to be notes from the moment I was able to catch a glimpse of them. Has she been speaking with Ron again?

A scowl slips through and appears on my face. While walking in on them ignited a fury I've never felt, I couldn't bring myself to be mad at her before, since she was still processing her life. A second time, however, I won't forgive.

_You. I choose you._

Her words ring in my head, and I shake the directions my thoughts took me. No, if Hermione Granger says something, she means it. She wouldn't be corresponding with Ron. That just leaves the question, who then?

"Penny for your thoughts? You look positively sour, Draco." Hermione scrutinizes me.

"Just thinking of Italy – work stuff" I lie smoothly as she knocks on Harry's door.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

I'm sorry guys. I'm not sure when the next update will be. Hopefully soon but I promise this story isn't abandoned and won't be!

* * *

"Sorry, Red, that's just how it is! The Tutshill Tornadoes have always been my favorite team."

Draco laughs heartily as Ginny scoffs in good heart.

"Well, your _'favorite team'_ is going down," she grins, returning from the kitchen and taking her place next to Harry once more. "Dinner's almost done. French onion soup and grilled chicken pesto paninis. Then for dessert, Harry's favorite, treacle tart."

Ginny, Harry, and Draco continue their quidditch banter as I quietly sip my wine, observing my best friends and 'fiancé.' Their familiarity suggests we get together often. Draco seems relaxed and in high spirits, and I wonder if we also visit his friends. I resolve to ask him later and continue letting my mind wander while they discuss players and stats.

I watch Draco, letting my eyes rove his face, taking note of the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. I observe the way he holds his glass of Old Odgen's, his Malfoy signet ring upon his left pinky finger. His teeth are white and straight as his lips turn up into a genuine smile. He brushes his fringe out of his eyes and turns to look at me. He grabs my hand, rubbing small circles into the back of it, resuming their conversation about the upcoming match.

Was it always this way? I look between Harry and Ginny, trying to picture their reactions at the beginning of this. Were they understanding or ready to place me in the Janus Thickey ward, sure I'd had permanent brain damage from a spell gone wrong? Were they friends with him before we started dating, or did they become friends because of me?

I think of our non-profit, and it's upcoming annual gala—one of those which, as Astoria told me, Draco proposed to me at. I spin my engagement ring with my thumb, thinking of a theme for this year's event.

"Earth to Hermione!" Ginny waves her hand in my face, "There you are!" She chuckles.

Draco pulls me to my feet and we head into the kitchen for dinner.

"You've been awfully quiet, darling— are you feeling quite right?" Draco whispers to me, still rubbing circles into my hand, worry etched upon his face. His other hand pushes my hair back, and he stares into my eyes.

"Just thinking of our gala," I admit becoming breathless.

My heart begins to race and my palms are slick. I swallow hard, intrigued by my body's continued response to him.

He smiles and pulls me in close. "It'll be great. Mum is beyond happy to see you, as well. She's been aching to see you, but I thought you might need more time getting used to... things."

Harry's green eyes pierce me as he observes our moment from the table and smiles knowingly. Ginny interjects,

"I know you hate Quidditch, Hermione, but it's Harpies vs. Tornadoes, Draco's favorite team, so your presence is required."

Ginny struggles to get James into his high chair and settled.

I groan but shoot them a smile. Draco slips his hand into mine, and I notice Ginny raise a brow to Harry with a smile she fails to keep hidden.

"So, you're getting on well, then?" Ginny directs to me, causing Draco to shoot her a murderous glare.

I wipe the palm that isn't enclosed in Draco's against my slacks, "I suppose I could say yes. It's hard not to with how devoted he is." I give him a small smile, and he squeezes my hand for comfort.

I eat in silence as they talk about previous dinners, parties, and the likes that we've done together over the years. Ginny cries laughing, telling the story of the time a muggle thought Draco was a waiter, and he had to argue with her to convince her he would NEVER be a wait-staff member.

"I barely have to work, much less as a waiter." Draco sniffs with a sense of superiority, as he pretends to be interested in his nails.

After dinner, Harry sets the dishes to wash themselves as Ginny takes James for a bath and bedtime.

"Dinner was divine, _Ginevra_," Draco teases over our nightcap as soon as she returns.

"Don't call me Ginerva!" Ginny barks out.

Draco tips his glass to her in response.

"Don't say you were never warned if she hexes you one day, Malfoy." Harry chuckles.

"Of course, of course, Saint Potter."

We make our way to the floo, saying our goodbyes. Ginny tells me we need a girl's day before her next game, which she informs me, yet again, my presence is mandatory.

Once we exit the floo, we make our way down the hall stopping in front of the Master Suite, our old room together.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Draco says softly. I'm surprised when he doesn't move to kiss me but instead makes to walk back down the hall to the guest bedroom.

"Stay with me tonight," I say slightly too desperately. "I mean, would you like to stay? Here, with me—tonight?"

He stops his progress and searches my face— for what I'm not sure. His face is a mask that I'm unable to decipher, but, slowly, he comes back until we're inches apart.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Hermione." his breath smells of firewhiskey, and his eyes are glazed over. My mouth forms an "o," as I realize, he's drunk. Between the unknown amount of drinks he had with the boys, and the drinks from dinner at Harry's, he appears to have crossed his limit.

My breath catches as he licks his lips, and the hunger that's evident on his face must be the reason he opted not to kiss me as we said goodnight. I gnaw on my bottom lip, catching his eye, irises blown wide.

"I understand. Goodnight, Draco."

He doesn't budge. Instead, he asks, "Are you sure?"

"We can just sleep," my voice is just a whisper, "right?"

He takes my hand and leads me into our bedroom. I pull the comforter down, grab my nightwear, and slip into the bathroom. I get dressed hastily, brushing my teeth, and throwing my hair together, lest it consume us both. Once I make my way back to the room, Draco is in his shorts only, and my mouth runs dry. He's more handsome with his shirt off than I realized.

We climb into bed, a rift between us due to the size, and I blush, realizing that we've likely made love in this bed numerous times— possibly the last time we shared this bed together. I lay on my side facing him, studying him once more.

His face looks strained as he lies flat, staring at the canopy, and I reach for his hand. As I drift off to sleep, I hear him, light as a summer breeze, murmur, "I love you, Hermione."

* * *

I start counting to keep my body under control, stuffing my desire in a file at the back of my mind. Her breathing evens out somewhere around 540 seconds before I finally turn and look at her. It's taking everything in me to keep my erection at bay thinking of the last time we were in this bed together. She rode both my face and my cock until we were sated and spent. Then we intertwined ourselves together, murmuring our affections into each other's mouths as we kissed lazily, drifting to sleep.

My mind is hazy from firewhiskey, and I don't even notice falling asleep until I'm waking, at some point having wrapped myself around Hermione.

_Merlin_, it feels so freeing holding her, as if this has all been one awful nightmare. I glance at the clock and decide to make her breakfast in bed before heading to Frank's.

I hear the click of her sensible heels before I see her. Her hair pulled into a chignon, donning an emerald green ensemble piece.

My eyebrow arches, "Well, good morning, Lady Malfoy."

She blushes with a small smile, "It's Granger."

I'm removing the eggs from the fire, not thinking before I quip back, "Only for another couple of months."

I hear the tinkle of her dropping the sugar spoon, and I realize what I've said. I turn to face her, and she's stiff, frozen in what appears to be shocked.

"I apologize, habit. It's just we always agreed, once you were Minister," my voice trails off as I swallow and continue, "we'd... get married. It's been planned for some years now. I understand if you don't..."

My voice trails off again, and I'm unable to look at her, so I busy myself levitating the dishes to the table at our breakfast nook. She doesn't speak for several moments.

"Elections are a month away, Draco."

Her voice is small, and her face looks stressed.

"We don't have to talk about this. I apologized, now please, I can't stand to hear you say you don't want to marry me. I think I've lost enough."

I sit at the table, staring blankly at the food I've cooked, yet another memory coming to mind.

Our anniversary, I had tried to cook Hermione dinner, assuming it couldn't be that hard. After all, I'm incredibly skilled in potions. How different can they really be? Apparently, the answer to that is; very. Instead of a 5-course meal, she came home to me siphoning smoke out of the kitchen and stupifying smoke detectors.

What was meant to be a good morning surprise has quickly soured as we eat in uncomfortable silence, only disturbed by the sounds of silverware against China.

Hermione sets the dishes to wash themselves, and I tentatively ask if she'll be joining me to Frank's. Her eyes twinkle at the thought of new books.

"I suppose I always have time for that. Although after, I need to pop into my office at the Ministry, I need everything to be ready for tomorrow. I have an interview with Pavarti about my big comeback," She sighs, appearing to fight a feeling of stress. "I've got to get back out there, Draco, or everything I've ever strived for will all be for naught. I need this, and I'd like your support so you can just wipe that look off your face." She places her tiny balled up hands on her hips. I absolutely love it when she works herself up.

* * *

Hermione prowls the stacks of books, both magical and muggle alike, hence her preference for Frank's over any other book shop. She's carrying a large pile on her hip, so lost in browsing that she forgets she can effortlessly levitate them. I grab them from her arms, placing them atop my own smaller collection, and she gives me a small, shy smile.

Her hot and cold behavior towards me is baffling, and I'm unsure of which side of her I'll get. One moment she seems accepting of her new life, yet the next, she's pulling back from me and uncertain.

She makes her way to the counter, and I hear Frank's raspy voice tell Hermione how Sunday's weren't the same without us. She shoots me a quick look, too short for me to decipher what she's feeling.

I pay as she objects, typical Granger, and we make our way outside to apparate home. She tells me that Ginny and herself had plans for a girl's day before Ginny hits the road again, after she finishes at the office and with Pavarti. I kiss her forehead and watch her floo out to the Ministry.

I wander aimlessly around the house, wondering how I'm going to spend my evening alone. As I'm about to owl Blaise and Theo, I find myself at the entrance to Hermione's study. I look over my shoulder and swallow as I slowly push the door open. Everything seems to be in order, but my eyes focus intently on her desk. I rub my palms on my slacks and take several large strides to it. I pull the drawer she acted so suspiciously about.

_Locked. _

"Alohomora,"

I'm intrigued when it doesn't open. Advanced locking spells? In our own home? I lick my lips and try several more advanced unlocking charms until it glides open. I glance at the door and then pull out the parchment directly on top.

My mouth runs dry. I can feel myself paling and features turning to stone as I'm filled with rage. I take a paperweight and throw it across the study, gaining satisfaction hearing the destruction it causes.

_If you know what's good for you, you'll withdraw, mudblood. _

I want to upend everything around me, and I feel my magic crackle around me as I start to lose control looking through the various threats. I was right, her blood _is_ the motive. I scream out as loud as I can, feeling it rip through my throat.

_"FUCK!" _

It dawns on me that while Granger may have found these threats, Hermione is the one who his them. She hid them from me, from Potter, the people most dedicated to her. How could she do this? Why would she hide this from us? For once, since she woke up, I'm pissed at Hermione, as my fiancée, _and_ Granger, as the woman who woke up in a different life.


End file.
